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LEONARDO DA VINCI'S NOTE-BOOKS 
 
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 Royal Library, Turin 
 
 LEONARDO DA VINCI 
 
 (DRAWN BY HIMSELF) 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI'S 
 NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 Arranged and rendered into English 
 
 with Introductions 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD MSCURDY, M.A. 
 
 New York: 
 EMPIRE STATE BOOK COMPANY 
 1923 
 
Empire State Book Compas 
 
AVANT PROPOS 
 
 There are many books of which it may be said 
 that the world will survive their loss, and there are 
 others so replete with inspiration that they should 
 be in the hands of every student of human progress; 
 for, when it is granted to us to become acquainted, 
 even to a small extent, with the lives and efforts of 
 those to whom the world is indebted, when we have 
 placed before us the record of courageous struggle, 
 of unwavering fortitude, we are often led to imitate 
 and strive in accordance with the example set before 
 us, and so bring to a successful termination what 
 before promised to be defeat. 
 
 There is another advantage as well that comes 
 from the study of these intimate records of a man’s 
 life: the broadening of the mental horizon as we 
 strive to grasp the underlying motives that have pro- 
 duced such application, such devotion, to aims and 
 ideals that, for the majority of us, have little or no 
 _ drawing power. The very effort we make to under- 
 stand the force that has commanded such self- 
 sacrificing consecration to an end that has no attrac- 
 tion for us, brings us within the circle, and conse- 
 quently, the influence of a new life, new vistas are 
 open before us, and as we assimilate and grow we 
 
achieve one of the greatest things in life; we grow 
 into furcner understanding of the infinite world of 
 the human heart, we see things from a different angle; 
 and the sympathies, once limited to a narrow sphere, 
 have broadened out and embraced yet another truth. 
 So in placing once more before the reading Public 
 the Note Books of Leonardo da Vinci, we feel that 
 we are performing a service for which that Public 
 will feel grateful. The careful study of the work of 
 one who stands out as one of the world’s greatest 
 intellects, whose prophetic vision was so keen that 
 it has led to his being qualified as the forerunner of 
 many aspects of modern scientific research, can only 
 be of the greatest value to all those who are inter- 
 ested in tracing the advance of Human Achievement, 
 and in particular, of studying those rare cases where 
 the mind has leaped across the boundaries of the age 
 in which it lived and worked. 
 Empire State Book Co. 
 
 January, 1923: 
 
PREFACE 
 
 Tue manuscripts of Leonardo da Vinci afford the chief 
 existing proof of that extraordinary versatility with 
 which he has been credited from the time of his earliest 
 biographers downwards. They comprise the records and 
 results of his studies in the theory of art and in various 
 branches of mathematical and natural science, together 
 with fragments of literary composition of a philosophical 
 or imaginative character, and in addition much personal 
 and biographical matter. The manuscripts in their pre- 
 sent form consist of about twenty note-books and bound 
 volumes or collections of loose sheets of various sizes, 
 containing altogether more than four thousand pages. 
 While on many of these there are only drawings or 
 scientific diagrams with at most a few words of comment 
 or explanation, others are covered with minute writing, 
 which with the rarest exceptions is of the character known 
 as ‘left-handed’ from the fact of its direction across the 
 page being from right to left, and which is therefore 
 most easily read by the use of a mirror. The contents 
 of these manuscripts, with the exception of such parts 
 as are contained in the compilation known as Leonardo’s 
 Treatise on Painting, have up to the present time 
 only been available to English readers in the edition 
 
vi PREFACE 
 
 selected and edited by Dr. Richter. The period of 
 more than twenty years which has now elapsed since 
 the appearance of that important work has witnessed 
 the publication in extenso of all the manuscripts of 
 Leonardo at Paris and Milan with facsimile reproductions 
 and transcripts, whilst a part of those at Windsor which 
 treat of anatomy and the small volume ‘on the flight of 
 birds’ have also appeared in a similar form; of the 
 remainder of the Windsor manuscripts photographic 
 facsimiles have been published. The quantity of material 
 thus placed within reach of the student is the justification 
 for a work of the scope of the present one. The above- 
 mentioned editions have served as my text for the 
 passages which I have taken from the Codice Atlantico, 
 the Codice Trivulziano, the manuscripts at Paris and 
 Windsor, and the volume ‘on the flight of birds.’ In 
 the case of the manuscript in the British Museum and 
 those at South Kensington I have worked from the 
 originals. In the passages from these and from the 
 Windsor facsimiles I have added a footnote where I 
 have ventured to adopt a reading somewhat different 
 from that found in the text as printed by Dr. Richter. 
 For seven passages taken from the manuscript in the 
 possession of the Earl of Leicester, I have used the text 
 given in Dr. Richter’s work, and also for some six lines 
 that occur in the Windsor manuscripts which I have not 
 been able to locate in the facsimiles; whilst for two 
 passages from sheets in the Christ Church Library at 
 
PREFACE vii 
 
 Oxford I am indebted to the texts in Mr. Sidney 
 Colvin’s Oxford Drawings. 
 
 My intention has been to present Leonardo as a 
 writer, and to include in this work all passages from the 
 note-books of philosophical, artistic, or literary interest. 
 From the mass of the scientific writings I have drawn 
 very sparingly, selecting only a few passages which either 
 possess a more general interest or which may serve to 
 - illustrate his method of exposition. I have not included 
 any of those passages’ which are simply the memoranda 
 of scientific or mathematical processes, or those of which 
 the importance is entirely biographical. These latter 
 chiefly consist of notes of Leonardo’s movements and 
 household expenses, details as to his various commissions, 
 and fragments of letters relating to the same. I have 
 also thought fit to exclude the passages purporting to be 
 letters addressed to the Devatdar of Syria, as their 
 actual character is a matter of some uncertainty, and 
 their literary value slight, as compared with the im- 
 portance of the biographical issue which they raise, and 
 any adequate discussion of that issue would travel 
 far beyond the purpose of the present work. I have 
 “not included any of the allegories about animals which 
 are found in MS. H of the Paris manuscripts, because 
 they are merely extracts made by Leonardo from early 
 bestiaries with at most verbal alterations; so also I have 
 omitted the notes on armour and on methods of warfare 
 in MS. B, as being derived in like manner from the 
 
Vili PREFACE 
 
 De re militari of Roberto Valturio. These facts may 
 serve to suggest some of the difficulties of selection. 
 The manuscripts were Leonardo’s note-books, and as 
 such they contain much unoriginal matter—some of it 
 no doubt still unidentified—taken from various books 
 which he read. 
 
 In the work of translation, trying at times to avoid 
 the Charybdis of a too literal interpretation, I may have 
 grounded my barque on the hidden reefs of Scylla which 
 lie in the outer seas ; but for the most part I have kept 
 to the shallows. , 
 
 The illustrations have been prepared from negatives 
 specially taken for the purpose by Mr. Emery Walker. 
 They have been chosen primarily with the intention of 
 showing the degree of exactitude which characterised 
 Leonardo’s study of natural phenomena. I am indebted 
 to Dr. W. S. Handley for the description of such of 
 them as are of an anatomical character ; and for repeated 
 help in the deciphering of various difficult passages of 
 the text I have to thank Mr. J. A. Herbert, of the 
 Manuscripts Department of the British Museum. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 PREFACE, . : ¥ ; . : : : v 
 LisT OF PLATES, . ‘ : ; oie : , xi 
 INTRODUCTION, : ‘ ‘ : : on é 1 
 A REcorRD oF THE MANUSCRIPTS, , : : ‘ 25 
 PROEM, j : : : ; 45 
 Book I. Lirz, . . ; i ; : ; 47 
 Boox II. Narure, : ‘ ‘ : : 85 
 
 Boox III. Arr— 
 
 1. PAINTING, PoETRY, AND SCULPTURE, . : 156 
 2. THE PRECEPTS OF THE PAINTER, “ ; 163 
 3. PERSPECTIVE, AND LIGHT AND SHADE, . : 210 
 4. LANDSCAPE, ; é ; : ; 236 
 
 Boox IV. Fanrasy— 
 FABLES, . : : : : : 252 
 
 PROPHECIES, : , : : ; 267 
 
 ix 
 
LIST OF PLATES 
 
 (The originals with the exception of the frontispiece are all to be 
 Found in the Royal Library at Windsor) 
 
 LEONARDO DA VINCI, BY HIMSELF, Royal Library, 
 Turin, . : : : : . « Frontispiece 
 
 1. Srupy oF A SKULL IN SECTION, TO sHOW 
 THE BONY CAVITIES OF THE FACE, . . Face p. 50 
 
 This plate represents a skull sawn through in 
 the median plane. The extreme front portion 
 of the right half of the skull has been removed 
 
 by a saw-cut at right angles to the median 
 ‘plane, so as to display the bony cavities or air 
 spaces (frontal sinus, and maxillary antrum) 
 which are present in the facial bones. The 
 section also displays the nasal duct through 
 which the tears pass down to the nasal cavity. 
 On the left are seen typical teeth from the 
 upper jaw: incisor, canine, bicuspid, and 
 molar, with a full and accurate description 
 appended. A transcript of the text is to be 
 found in I Manoscritti di L. da V. Delf 
 Anatomia, Fogh B, pp. 249-50. 
 
 2. STUDIES OF THE DeELttTorp Muscxe OF THE 
 SHOULDER IN VARIOUS ASPECTS, > . Face p. 75 
 
 This plate is concerned almost entirely with 
 the deltoid muscle of the shoulder, which is 
 represented from various aspects and in various 
 positions of the arm. The little drawing in 
 
Xi 
 
 LIST’ OF PLATES 
 
 the centre below the middle of the page is not 
 related.to thé one above it, and represents a 
 dissection of the omo-hyoid muscle arising, as 
 Leonardo believed, from the clavicle. The text 
 contains the passages on the nature and number 
 of the veins, which are to be found on pp. 79 
 and 80, also an account of the various move- 
 ments of the neck, and explanations of the 
 letters which occur on the smaller of the draw- 
 ings. For transcript, see J Manoscritti di L. da 
 V. Dell’ Anatomia, Fogli A, pp. 67-69. 
 
 3. STUDIES IN THE ANATOMY OF THE NECK 
 
 AND OF THE BONES OF THE Foor, . 
 
 This plate illustrates the anatomy of (a) the 
 bones of the left foot, seen from above and from 
 below ; (4) the muscular and other structures 
 of the neck, seen from various aspects. In one 
 of the passages of the text Leonardo gives the 
 number of the bones of the foot as twenty- 
 seven. For transcript, see 1 Manoscritti di L. 
 daV. Dell’ Anatomia, Fogh A, pp. 75-6. 
 
 4. STUDIES OF A SKULL IN MEDIAN SECTION, 
 
 In the upper drawing half the vault of the 
 skull has been removed in order to show. the 
 cranial cavity. 
 
 In the lower drawing the skull and the upper 
 part of the spinal column are seen in a section 
 through the mid-plane of the body. The spinal 
 column appears to be unnaturally straight. The 
 lines on the drawing are to show inser alia that 
 the point about which the skull rotates is one 
 third the vertical distance from the level of the 
 chin to the level of the crown of the ‘head. 
 For transcript, see 1 Manoscritti di L. da V. 
 Dell’ Anatomia, Fogh B, p. 243. 
 
 5. LANDSCAPE WITH CLoup EFFECT, . : 
 
 Face p. 78 
 
 Face p. 84 
 
 Face p. 125 
 
LIST OF PLATES xiii 
 
 6. Pace or MS. ‘For THE SHRINE OF VENUS’ 
 (Pel sito di Venere), TOGETHER WITH ARCHI- 
 TECTURAL STUDIES AND SKETCH OF 
 NEPTUNE WITH HIs Horses, . ; . Face p. 131 
 
 The heads and legs of horses seen at the base 
 of the standing figure show its connection 
 with the composition of Neptune in his chariot 
 drawn by sea-horses, which, according to Vasari, 
 Leonardo drew for Antonio Segni. The head 
 of the horse on the right recalls the larger 
 spirited study for the same composition at 
 Windsor (Grosvenor Gallery Portfolio No. 48) 
 From a note on the last-named drawing ‘ abassi 
 i chavalli’ (make the horses lower), it may be 
 inferred that the plate represents the later of 
 the two versions. Leonardo was apparently 
 dissatisfied with an arrangement in which the 
 position of the figure suggests a charioteer quite 
 as much as it does a deity, and altered it to 
 represent the god in an erect position. The 
 figure has a considerable similarity to that of 
 the David of Michelangelo, but is not impro- 
 bably of earlier date. 
 
 7. GENIsTA TincToriA (Dyers’ Greenweed) AND 
 Acorns AND LEAVES OF THE STALKED 
 Oak (Quercus Robur Pedunculata), . . Face p. 163 
 
 8. Srupy oF DRAPERY OF KNEELING FicureE, Face p. 186 
 
 9. BRAMBLE (Rubus Fruticosus), : : . Face p. 212 
 
 10. Grove oF SILVER BIRCHEs, ; : . Face p. 242 | 
 
 11. Stupy oF TREE, : . : : - Face p. 248 
 
XIV LIST OF PLATES 
 
 12. CoLuMBINE (Aquilegia Vulgaris), . 
 
 13. RanuncuLus Repens (Creeping Crowfoot), 
 ORNITHOGALUM UMBELLIFERUM (Star of 
 Bethlehem), ANEMONE NeEmorosa (Wood 
 Anemone), EUPHORBIA EsuLa (Leafy-Branched 
 
 Spurge), 
 
 Face p. 262 
 
 Face p. 274 
 
 a 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI’S NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Tue unknown author of 4eina at the outset of his song 
 disclaims all sympathy with the fictions of poets who 
 represent the mountain as the forge of Vulcan, the kilns 
 of the Cyclops, or the mound beneath which lies the 
 giant Enceladus breathing smoke and flame. Fables all ! 
 And the bards who utter them not content with earth as 
 their province think to tell of the wars of the Gods, and 
 the shapes which Jove assumes ! 
 
 His work shall treat of Aetna itself, not the legends 
 about it. His purpose is to trace the mighty workings 
 of nature as revealed in the mountain’s hidden fires. 
 
 This he proceeded to do with scientific thoroughness ; 
 yet it would seem that the reservation pressed somewhat 
 hardly upon the poetic instinct ; so soon as ever his 
 purpose was accomplished the muse led him back in 
 apparent contentment to the scorned fables, 
 
 An analogy—at best a partial thing—may here serve 
 to break the shore-ice of the sea of conjecture. The 
 early biographers of Leonardo da Vinci cultivated the 
 picturesque with an almost metrical licence. Their 
 narratives, which together constitute what Pater has 
 termed the /égende, are as inadequate to reveal his work 
 
 and personality, as the fables of Vulcan’s forge and 
 A 
 
2 INTRODUCTION 
 
 the like are unsatisfying as an origin for Aetna’s fire. 
 Moreover, in the different aspects which Aetna has 
 assumed to the imagination, seeming at first a caprice of 
 the Gods and a thing of rhapsody, and subsequently—as 
 the tenor of thought changed—a field for the scientific 
 study of the forces of nature, there 1s presented a contrast 
 no less sharply defined, and in its main features somewhat 
 closely corresponding to that presented by the personality 
 of Leonardo as shown in the earliest biographies and in 
 the light of modern research. For the capricious 
 volatile prodigy of youthful genius which the Zgende has 
 bequeathed, the latter has substituted a figure less 
 romantic, less alluringly inexplicable, but of even more 
 varied and astonishing gifts. His greatness as an artist 
 has suffered no change, but modern research has revealed 
 the ordered continuity of effort which preceded achieve- 
 ment. It has made manifest how he studied the 
 structure of the human frame, of the horse, of rocks, 
 and trees, in order the better to paint and make statues, 
 in that his work would then be upon the things he knew, 
 and no sinew or leaf would be conventional, but taken 
 directly from the treasury of nature; since the artist 
 should be ‘ the son, not the grandson of nature.’ 
 
 This habit of scientific investigation in inception sub- 
 sidiary to the practice of his art so grew to dominate it 
 as to gradually alienate him from its practice to the study 
 of its laws, and then of those which govern all created 
 nature. The fruits of these studies lay hidden in manu- 
 scripts, of which the contents have only become fully 
 known within the last quarter of a century. So by a 
 curious appositeness he 1s associated in each age with the 
 
INTRODUCTION 3 
 
 predominant current of its activity. His versatility in 
 the arts caused him to seem an embodiment of the spirit 
 of the Renaissance. Alike as painter, sculptor, architect, 
 engineer, and musician, he aroused the wonder and 
 admiration of his contemporaries. But to them, the 
 studies which traversed the whole domain of nature, pre- 
 figuring in their scope what the spirit of the Renaissance 
 should afterwards become, were so imperfectly compre- 
 hended as to seem mere trifles, ‘ghiribizzi,’ to de 
 mentioned apologetically, if at all, as showing the wayward 
 inconstancy of genius, and with regret on account of the 
 time thus wasted which might have been spent on 
 painting. Modern savants have resolved these trifles, 
 and in so doing have estimated the value of Leonardo’s 
 discoveries and observations in the realms of exact 
 science. ‘They have acclaimed him as one of the greatest 
 of savants: not in completed endeavour which of itself 
 reached fruition, but in conjecture and prefigurement of 
 what the progress of science has in course of centuries 
 established. Such conjecture, moreover, was not 
 grounded in fantasy, but was the harvest of a lifetime of 
 study of natural phenomena, and of close analysis of 
 their laws. Anatomist, mathematician, chemist, geologist, 
 botanist, astronomer, geographer,—the application of 
 each of these titles is fully justified by the contents of 
 his manuscripts at Milan, Paris, Windsor, and London. 
 To estimate aright the value of his researches in the 
 various domains of science would require an almost 
 encyclopaedic width of knowledge. In respect to these 
 Leonardo himself in his manuscripts must be accounted 
 his own best biographer, in spite of what may appear the 
 
4 INTRODUCTION 
 
 enigmatic brevity of some of his statements and infer- 
 ences. It is not possible to claim for him originality in 
 discovery in all the points wherein his researches antici- 
 pated principles which were subsequently established. 
 So incomplete is the record of the intellectual life of 
 Milan under the Sforzas, which has survived the storms 
 of invasion that subsequently broke upon the city, as to 
 cause positive statement on this point to be wellnigh 
 impossible ; something, however, should be allowed for 
 the results of his intercourse with those who were 
 occupied in the same fields of research. We are told 
 that at a later period he was the friend of Marc Antonio 
 della Torre who held the Chair of Anatomy in the 
 University of Pavia, and that they mutually assisted 
 each other’s studies. He was also the friend of Fra 
 Luca Pacioli the mathematician, and drew the diagrams 
 for his De Divina Proportione, and the two were com- 
 panions for some time in the autumn and winter of 
 1499, after leaving Milan together at the time of the 
 French invasion. Numerous references and notes which 
 occur throughout the manuscripts show that he was 
 indefatigable in seeking to acquire knowledge from 
 every possible source, either by obtaining the loan of 
 books or treatises, or by application to those interested 
 in the same studies. From the astrologers then to be 
 found at Ludovic’s court—Ambrogio da Rosate and the 
 others,—he learnt nothing. He rated their wisdom on 
 a par with that of the alchemists and the seekers after 
 perpetual motion. His study of the heavens differed 
 from theirs as much in method as in purpose. His 
 instruments were scientific, and even at times suggestively 
 
INTRODUCTION 5 
 
 modern. The line in the Codice Atlantico ‘construct 
 glasses to see the moon large’ (fa occhiali da vedere la 
 luna grande) refers, however, only to the use of magni- 
 fying glasses; the invention of the telescope is to be 
 assigned to the century following. 
 
 At the commencement of the sixteenth century, the 
 Ptolemaic theory of the Universe was still held in 
 universal acceptance. Leonardo at*first accepted it, and 
 in his earlier writings the earth is represented as fixed, 
 with the sun and moon revolving round it. He ended at 
 some stage further on in the path of modern discovery. 
 On a page of mathematical notes at Windsor he has 
 written in large letters, ‘the sun does not move’ (il sole 
 no si muove). 
 
 He has been spoken of as the forerunner of Bacon, of 
 James Watt, of Sir Isaac Newton, of William Harvey. 
 He cannot be said to have anticipated the discoveries 
 with which their names are associated. It may, however, 
 be claimed that he anticipated the methods of investiga- 
 tion which, when pursued to their logical issue, could 
 not but lead to these discoveries. 
 
 The great anatomist Vesalius, after having given up 
 his Chair of Anatomy in 1561 in order to become the 
 court physician at Madrid, spoke of himself as still 
 looking forward to studying ‘that true bible as we count 
 it of the human body and of the nature of man.’ Sir 
 Michael Foster takes these words as the keynote of the 
 life-work of Vesalius :—‘ the true bible to read is nature 
 itself, things as they are, not the printed pages of Galen 
 or another; science comes by observation not by 
 authority.” In method Leonardo was the forerunner 
 
6 INTRODUCTION 
 
 of Vesalius, and consequently of William Harvey, whose 
 great work was the outcome of Vesalius’s teaching. No 
 passage in his writings constitutes an anticipation of 
 Harvey’s discovery. He knew that the blood moved 
 just as he also knew that the sun did not move, but the 
 law of the circulation of the blood was as far beyond 
 the stage at which his deductions had arrived as was the 
 discovery of Copernicus. It was his work to establish, 
 even before the birth of Vesalius, that ‘science comes 
 by observation not by authority.’ Yet he was no mere 
 empiric. He knew the authorities. He quotes in his 
 manuscripts from Mundinus’s Anatomia, and he must 
 have known the work of Galen to which Mundinus 
 served as an introduction. At atime when the Church 
 ‘taught the sacredness of the human corpse, and was 
 ready to punish asa sacrilege the use of the anatomist’s 
 scalpel,’ Leonardo practised dissection ; and he suffered 
 in consequence of his temerity, since it was subsequent 
 to the malicious laying of information concerning these 
 experiments that the withdrawal of the papal favour 
 brought about his departure from Rome in 1515. Of 
 such temerity the anatomical drawings are a rich harvest. 
 The pall of authority was thrown aside ; the primary need 
 was for actual investigation, and of this they are a record. 
 He would agree, he says, as to it being better for the 
 student to watch a demonstration in anatomy than to see 
 his drawings ‘if only it were possible to observe all the 
 details shown in these drawings in a single figure; in 
 which, with all your ability, you will not see nor acquire 
 a knowledge of more than some few veins, while, in 
 order to obtain an exacc and complete knowledge of 
 
INTRODUCTION 5 
 
 these, I have dissected more than ten human bodies, 
 destroying all the various members and removing even 
 the very smallest particles of the flesh which surrounded 
 these veins, without causing any effusion of blood other 
 than the imperceptible bleeding of the capillary veins.’ 
 
 It was after his examination of these drawings that 
 the great anatomist Dr. William Hunter wrote that he 
 was fully of opinion that ‘Leonardo was the best 
 Anatomist at that time in the world.’ 
 
 Coleridge called Shakespeare ‘ myriad-minded.’ If the 
 Baconian contention were established the result would 
 afford a parallel to the myriad-mindedness of Leonardo. 
 Morelli speaks of him as ‘ perhaps the most richly gifted 
 by nature among all the sons of men.’ Equally emphatic 
 is the tribute of Francis 1. recorded by Benvenuto 
 Cellini: ‘He did not believe that any other man had 
 come into the world who had attained so great knowledge 
 as Leonardo, and that not only as sculptor, painter, and 
 architect, for beyond that he was a profound philosopher.’ 
 
 In regard to this undefined, ungarnered knowledge the 
 prevalent note of the early biographers is frankly the 
 marvellous. To us his personality seems to outspan 
 the confines of his age, to project itself by the inherent 
 force of its vitality down into modern times and so to 
 take its due place among the intuitive influences of 
 modern thought. To them on the other hand his 
 personality projecting beyond the limits of his own age 
 seemed to stretch back into the age of legend, to gather 
 something of its insouciance and its mystery. The figure 
 —never sufficiently to be extolled for beauty of person 
 —wandering through princes’ courts improvising songs, 
 
8 INTRODUCTION 
 
 bearing a lute as a gift from one patron to another, and 
 playing upon it in such skilled fashion that that alone 
 out of all the arts of which he had knowledge would 
 suffice as ‘open sesame’ to win him welcome, seems 
 indeed rather to have its habitation in Provence at the 
 close of the twelfth century than to be that of a contem- 
 porary and fellow-citizen of Macchiavelli and Savonarola. 
 In lieu of any such period of toilsome apprenticeship as 
 Vasari’s biographies lead us customarily to expect, there 
 seems almost a Pallas-like maturity at birth. The angel 
 painted by him when an apprentice causes his master to 
 abandon the use of the brush, in chagrin that a mere 
 child had surpassed him ; and so, in like manner, we are 
 told that a monster which he painted on a shield filled 
 his own father with dismay. Unsatisfied with this 
 mastery of the arts he sought to discern the arcana of 
 nature; and whither the quest had led him it was not 
 for a mere biographer to say. But each will help you to 
 conjecture, with hints more expressive than words, and 
 less rebuttable. Leonardo’s scornful references to the 
 pretended wisdom of alchemists, astrologers, and necro- 
 mancers lay hidden meanwhile in the manuscripts, not 
 available to contravene such suppositions. 
 
 The personality as represented in the early biographies 
 is substantially that which is expressed in the phrase of 
 Michelet ‘ Léonard, ce frére italien de Faust.’ It tells 
 of him that he chose rather to know than to be, and 
 that curiosity led him within the forbidden portals! It 
 represents in fact the popular mediaeval conception of 
 scientific study. Much of the modern aesthetic appreci- 
 ation 1s in its essential conception a more temperate 
 
INTRODUCTION | 9 
 
 re-statement of the same point of view. Errors—or at 
 any rate some of them !—are corrected in the light of the 
 results of critical research from Amoretti downwards : 
 the outlook nevertheless remains that of Vasari and 
 the Anonimo Fiorentino! Ruskin’s dictum, that ‘he 
 debased his finer instincts by caricature and remained to 
 the end of his days the slave of an archaic smile,’ is at 
 one with the opinion of the folk of Wittenberg who 
 lamented Faust’s use of the unhallowed arts which had 
 made him Helen’s lover. ‘The true analogy liés not with 
 Faust but with Goethe, between whom and Leonardo 
 there is perhaps as great a psychological resemblance as 
 ever has existed between two men of supreme genius. 
 In each the purely artistic and creative faculties became 
 subordinate, mastered by the sanity of the philosophical 
 faculties. 
 
 In each alike the restless workings of the human 
 spirit desiring to know, ranged over the various mediums 
 of artistic expression, tempered them to its uses, and 
 finally passed on, looking beyond the art to the thought 
 itself, unsatisfied with what—even in its perfection of 
 utterance—was but a pale reflex of the phenomena it 
 would observe. The two parts of Goethe’s Faust drama 
 symbolise the gradual change of purpose, and may 
 perhaps serve to represent Leonardo’s two spheres of 
 activity. Verrocchio’s bottega and all the influences of 
 the art world of Florence in the Quattrocento were for 
 him tutelage and training, as the mediaeval chap-book 
 legends and the newly arisen literature of the Romantic 
 School were for the poet of Weimar. The result in 
 each case was limpid, serene, majestic, for the elements 
 
10 INTRODUCTION 
 
 which had gone to the making of it, had been fused 
 molten in the flame-heat of genius. Yet the man behind 
 the artist is still unsatisfied. He never shares the artist’s 
 accomplishment with such measure of absorption as 
 characterised Raphael and Giovanni Bellini. He has 
 something of the aloofness of Faust. There is that 
 within him which art’s appeal to the senses never kindled 
 into life, never impelled to utter to one of its moments 
 the supreme shibboleth of Hedonism, ‘Stay, thou art so 
 fair.” All the allurements of the mediaeval chap-book 
 legend were revealed in the first part of the Faust drama, 
 then, this invocation being as yet unuttered, the thinker 
 essays the problem. No beaten footsteps as before in 
 this new avenue of approach! No clear limpidity of 
 ordered effort! Titanic energy struggles prinfully amid 
 the chaos of dimly-perceived primaeval forces. The re- 
 sult—even the very effort itself—according to much 
 critical opinion, was an artistic mistake. 
 
 The same judgment was passed on Leonardo’s work 
 as philosopher and scientist by the earliest of his bio- 
 graphers. Yet in each case the thinker is nearer to the 
 verities. Faust is regenerated by the service of man 
 from out of the hell of mediaeval tradition. It was the 
 cramping fetter of mediaeval tradition upon thought 
 which Leonardo toiled to unloose. It was his aim to 
 extend the limits of man’s knowledge of himself, of his 
 structure, of his environments, of all the forms of life 
 around him, of the manner of the building up of the 
 earth and sea, and of the firmament of the heavens. 
 To this end he toiled at the patient exposition of natural 
 things, steadfastly, and in proud confidence of purpose. 
 
INTRODUCTION II 
 
 ‘I wish,’ he says, ‘to work miracles; I may have fewer 
 possessions than other men who are more tranquil and 
 those who wish to grow rich in a day.’ 
 
 Inchoate and comparatively barren of result as was 
 his investigation of natural phenomena, it nevertheless 
 was actual investigation, and it attained results. We 
 may instance the passages in the manuscript at Holkham 
 Hall, in which the fact of fossil shells being found in the 
 higher mountain ridges of Lombardy, is used by a pro- 
 cess of deductive reasoning, to show how at one time 
 the waters covered the earth. The hypothetical argu- 
 ment that the presence of these shells is to be attributed 
 to the Flood, he meets by considering the rate of the 
 cockle’s progress. It is a creature possessed of no swifter 
 power of motion than the snail has when out of water. 
 It cannot swim, but makes a furrow in the sand by 
 means of its sides, and travels in this furrow a space of 
 three to four braccia daily, and by such a method of 
 progression, it could not in forty days have travelled 
 from the Adriatic to Monferrato in Lombardy, a distance 
 of two hundred and fifty miles. Neither is it a case of 
 dead shells having been carried there by the force of the 
 waves, for the living are recognisable by the shells being 
 in pairs. Many other passages in the manuscripts might 
 be cited to show by what varied paths he anticipated the 
 modern methods of scientific investigation. The words 
 which Pater uses of the Renaissance of the fifteenth 
 century, ‘in many things great rather by what it de- 
 signed or aspired to do than by what it actually achieved ’ 
 —-applicable to Leonardo in respect of his work as an 
 artist,—are no whit the less applicable in reference to his 
 
12 INTRODUCTION 
 
 work in science. Painting and sculpture filled only two 
 of the facets of a mind, which, as a crystal, took the 
 light from whatever quarter light came. As, however, it 
 was in these arts that he accomplished most, so such of 
 his writings as treat of them are on the whole the most 
 practical. In science, for the most part he heralded the 
 work of others; in respect to his writings on art, we 
 may apply to him the words which Direr uses of himself 
 in a similar connection, ‘ what he set down with the pen 
 he did with the hand.’ It is this very factor of experi- 
 ence working in the mind, which at times causes an 
 abrupt antithesis in the transition from the general prin- 
 ciple to discussion of the means whereby it should be 
 realised. His work may perhaps be considered to lose 
 somewhat of its literary value in consequence, but it 
 acquires an almost unique interest among treatises on art 
 by its combination of the two standpoints of theory and 
 practice. Of this, one of the most striking instances 
 occurs in a passage which is only to be found in the 
 recension of the Treatise on Painting in the Vatican 
 (Ludwig, cap. 180). Leonardo there sums up, tritely 
 and profoundly, what should be the painter’s purpose, ‘a 
 good painter has two chief objects to paint, man and the 
 intention of his soul, the former is easy the latter hard’ ; 
 after which follows the eminently reasonable, if perhaps 
 unexpected explanation, ‘because he has to represent it 
 by the attitudes and movements of the limbs’ ; and the 
 knowledge of these he proceeds to say should be acquired 
 by observing the dumb, because their movements are 
 more natural than those of any other class of persons. 
 This very practical direction how to approach towards 
 
INTRODUCTION 13 
 
 the realisation of an apparently abstract aim is entirely 
 characteristic of his intention. The supreme misfortune, 
 he says, is when theory outstrips performance. This 
 essential practicality of mind brought about the result that 
 in the more abstract portions of this branch of his writings 
 his zest for first principles is most apparent. The sun, the 
 origin of light and shade, is recognised as the first artist, 
 and we are told that ‘the first picture consisted merely 
 in a line which surrounded the shadow of a man cast by 
 the sun upon a wall’; and the comparison of poetry and 
 painting resolves itself into a consideration of the relative 
 importance of the senses to which the two arts make 
 their appeal. 
 
 It is perhaps in the passages which indicate the 
 manner in which particular scenes and actions should be 
 represented in art that Leonardo’s powers as a writer 
 find their most impressive utterance. His natural in- 
 clination impelled him to the contemplation of the vast 
 and awe-inspiring in nature; but in these terse, vivid, 
 analytic descriptions, the consideration of the ultimate 
 purpose operates throughout to restrain and co-ordinate. 
 The descriptive passage entitled ‘the way to represent a 
 battle,’ in which the effect is built up entirely by fidelity 
 of detail, forms indeed a veritable triumph of realism. 
 There can be no possibility of difference of opinion as to 
 how Leonardo regarded warfare. It was a grim neces- 
 sity, and he was himself busied on occasions in devising 
 its instruments; but he had no illusions as to its real 
 nature, he characterises it elsewhere as a ‘bestial frenzy’ 
 (bestiallissima pazzia). Here, however, he never suffers 
 his pen to digress from the work of simple description. 
 
14 INTRODUCTION 
 
 To generalise would be alien to his purpose, which is to 
 show how to portray a battle in progress. Consequently 
 he shows what it is that is actually happening amid the 
 clouds of dust and smoke and the rain of gunshot and 
 falling arrows ; and describes tersely, graphically, relent- 
 lessly the passions and agonies of the combatants as 
 shown in their faces and their actions, the bitterness of 
 the deaths of the vanquished, the fury and exhaustion 
 of the victors and the mad terror of the horses, since 
 these should find a place in the work of whosoever would 
 represent war; ‘and see to it,’ he says in conclusion, 
 ‘that you make no level spot of ground that is not 
 trampled over with blood.’ The passage enables us in 
 part to realise what he sets himself to represent in the 
 picture of the Battle of Anghiari. It is, however, far 
 more than a mere note for a picture. It possesses an 
 interest and value apart either from this fact or from 
 the mastery in the art of writing which it reveals. Its 
 ultimate value is moral and didactic. He forbears to 
 generalise but constrains the reader in his stead. His 
 description is of the identical spirit which has animated 
 the creations of Tolstoi and Verestchagin. Like these 
 Leonardo seems to seek to make war impossible, by 
 showing it stripped of all its pageantry and trappings, in 
 its naked and hideous reality. 
 
 The passages which describe a tempest and a deluge 
 and their representation in painting possess the same 
 vigorous realism and fidelity of detail, and contain some 
 of Leonardo’s most eloquent and picturesque writing ; 
 and among the other notes connected with pictures we 
 may instance that for the ‘ Last Supper,’ descriptive of 
 
INTRODUCTION 1s 
 
 the actions of the disciples, which, although of far 
 slighter mould than any of the passages already referred 
 to, yet possesses a restrained but very distinct dramatic 
 power. These same qualities may be discerned perhaps 
 even to more advantage in one of the very rare comments 
 on public events which are to be found in his writings. 
 After Ludovic Sforza’s attempt to regain possession of 
 Lombardy had ended with his defeat and capture at the 
 battle of Novara in April 1500, Leonardo wrote among 
 notes on various matters, ‘The Duke has lost his State, 
 his possessions, and his liberty, and he has seen none of 
 his works finished.’ (Il Duca perse lo Stato e la roba 
 e la liberta, e nessuna sua opera si fini per lui.) Leonardo 
 was a homeless wanderer in consequence of the events 
 referred to, and one of the works of which the duke 
 had not witnessed the completion was that of the statue 
 on which Leonardo had been engaged intermittently 
 during sixteen years, and the model of which had served 
 as a target for the French soldiery ; but this terse im- 
 passive comment is the only reference to these occurrences 
 found in his writings. There is a certain poignant brevity 
 and concentration in the sentence which suffices even to 
 recall some of the most inevitable lines of Dante. 
 
 It is within the narrow limits of the short sentence 
 and the apothegm that Leonardo’s command of language 
 is most luminous. In some of these the thought ex- 
 pressed is so wedded to the words as scarcely to suffer 
 transference. ‘Cosa bella mortale passa e non d’arte’ 
 is a type of the almost untranslatable ; so also ‘Si come 
 une giornata bene spesa da lieto dormire cosi una vita 
 bene usata da lieto morire’ must lose something of its 
 
16 INTRODUCTION 
 
 grace in any rendering. Certain of these sentences 
 record the phenomena of nature so simply as to cause 
 us almost to doubt whether they are intended to do 
 more than this. ‘All the flowers which see the sun 
 mature their seed, and not the others, that is those which 
 see only the reflection of the sun,’ is perhaps written as 
 an observation of nature without thought of a deeper 
 meaning ; but it is hard to suppose that a similar restric- 
 tion applies to the sentence ‘ tears come from the heart 
 not from the brain,’ although it is found in a manuscript 
 which treats of anatomy. 
 
 It would seem that it was natural to him as a writer 
 to use words as symbols and figuratively, thus employing 
 things evident and revealed in metaphor. Of this habit 
 of veiled utterance the section of his imaginative writings 
 known as prophecies affords the most impressive and 
 sustained series of instances. Some few of these are, as 
 their name implies, a forecast of future conditions; many 
 attack the vices and abuses of his own time. In the 
 succinct, antithetical form of their composition Leonardo 
 apparently created his own model. 
 
 There are questions more intimate than any of those 
 which arise from the consideration of his achievement 
 in these various arts and sciences; questions which 
 the mere number of these external interests tends to veil 
 in comparative obscurity, causing us to regard Leonardo 
 almost as a resultant of forces rather than as an individual, 
 to see in him as it were an embodiment of the various 
 intellectual tendencies of the Renaissance,—as though the 
 achievements were the man! The figure crosses the 
 stage of life in triumph, playing to perfection many parts ! 
 
INTRODUCTION 17 
 
 But of these enough! Let us try to come nearer, to get 
 past the cloak of his activities, and essay to ‘ pluck the 
 heart out of this mystery.’ Asa means towards this end, 
 let us consider his attitude with regard to certain of the 
 problems of life. 
 
 His writings inculcate the highest morality, though 
 rather as a reasoned process of the mind than as a revela- 
 tion from an external authority. He preserves so com- 
 plete a reticence on the subject of doctrinal belief as to 
 leave very little base for inference as to his faith or lack of 
 faith. ‘The statement of Vasari that he did not conform 
 to any religion, deeming it better perhaps to be a philoso- 
 pher than a Christian, was omitted in the second edition 
 of the Lives, and may therefore be looked upon as 
 probably merely a crystallisation of some piece of Flor- 
 entine gossip. It would be idle to attempt to surmise 
 as to the reason of the withdrawal. To whatever cause 
 it may have been due, its significance is no whit the less 
 as outweighing a mass of suggestion and vain repetition 
 on this subject by later writers. In temperament Leo- 
 nardo has something akin to certain of the precursors or 
 the Reformation. In any conflict between the dictates 
 of reason and of authority, he would be found on the 
 side of freedom of thought. ‘ Whoever,’ he wrote, ‘in 
 discussion adduces authority uses not his intellect but 
 rather memory.’ : 
 
 The*cast of his mind was anti-clerical. His in- 
 dignation at the abuses and corruption of the Church 
 found expression in satire as direct and piercing as that 
 of Erasmus. His scorn of the vices of the priesthood, 
 of their encouragement of superstition, of the trade in 
 
 B 
 
18 INTRODUCTION 
 
 miracles and pardons, which is eloquently expressed in 
 the section of his writings known as ‘the prophecies,’ 
 may not unnaturally have earned for him the title of 
 heretic from those whom he attacked. His quarrel lay, 
 however, not with the foundations on which faith rested, 
 but with what he conceived to be its degradation in 
 practice by its votaries. His own path lay along the 
 field of scientific inquiry ; but where the results of this 
 research seemed at variance with revealed truth, he 
 would reserve the issue, disclaiming the suggestion of 
 antagonism. Nature indeed cannot break her own laws. 
 The processes of science are sure,—but there are regions 
 where we cannot follow them. ‘Our body is subject 
 to heaven, and heaven is subject to the spirit.’ So at 
 the conclusion of a passage describing the natural origin 
 of life, he adds, ‘I speak not against the sacred books, 
 for they are supreme truth.’ The words seem a protest 
 against the sterile discussion of these things. ‘There is 
 indeed a reticence in the expression of the formulas of 
 faith, but the strands of its presence may be seen in the 
 web of life. 
 
 The impelling necessity to use life fully is the ever 
 recurrent burden of his moral sayings : 
 
 © Life well spent is long.’ 
 
 ‘Thou, O God, dost sell unto us all good things at the price 
 of labour.’ 
 
 “As a well-spent day brings happy sleep, so life well used 
 brings happy death.’ 
 
 This vision of the end is steadfast. Death follows 
 life even as sleep rounds off the day, and as we work 
 well in the day, so sleep when it comes is happy and 
 
INTRODUCTION 19 
 
 untroubled. During the passing of the day there is so 
 much to be done, such opportunity to construct and to 
 observe, so much knowledge to be won about this world 
 wherein the day is passed, that there is scarce time re- 
 maining in which to stand in fear and wonder at thought 
 of what chimeras the coming shadow may hold within it. 
 It is better to use to-day than to spend it in questioning 
 of to-morrow. Duty in life is clear and we must follow 
 it. When he speaks of what comes after, it is with that 
 hesitance common to all, unless to speak of it be made 
 ’ habituate by custom, for to all, whatever be their belief, 
 there yet remains something unknowable in the condi- 
 tions of the change. 
 
 In one of the most beautiful passages of his writings, 
 —a fragment on time, the destroyer—Leonardo de- 
 scribes Helen in her old age as looking into her mirror 
 and seeing there the wrinkles which time had imprinted 
 on her face, and then weeping, and wondering why she 
 had been twice carried away. Beautiful as is the descrip- 
 tion, the hand which penned it is pre-eminently that of 
 the scientist ; we seem to see the anatomist at work with 
 the scalpel, so minute is the observation therein revealed 
 as to the effect of age and of the relentless approach of 
 death upon the human frame. 
 
 The frequent recurrence in his writings and in his 
 drawings and grotesques of the physical tokens of decay 
 and death argues, however, no morbid predilection such as 
 was that shown by the painters of the danse macabre. It 
 forms a proportioned part of his study and ‘patient ex- 
 position’ of the origin and development of the whole 
 structure of man. In the results as we may read them, 
 
20 INTRODUCTION 
 
 there is no incursion of the personal note. His attitude 
 is always that of an observer, looking with curious eyes, 
 noting all the phenomena of physical change, but yet 
 all the while preserving a strange impassivity. He never 
 in any of his works or in his manuscripts gives the 
 suggestion of possessing any of that regret at the passing 
 of time which rings through Giorgione’s sun-steeped 
 idyls. Indeed, from all such lament, he expressly dis- 
 sociates himself. Time, he assevers, stays long enough 
 for those who use it. The mere fact of the inevitability 
 of death forbids regret. It therefore cannot be an evil. 
 He speaks of it as taking away the memory of evil, and 
 compares it with the sleep which follows after the day. 
 The thought of this sleep brings silence: when on rare 
 occasion the silence is broken, he stands with Shake- 
 speare and Montaigne, revealing, as they do, when they 
 address themselves to the same ques oe: a quiet confi- 
 dence, serene and proud. 
 
 The author of Virginibus Puerisque discoursing whim- 
 sically upon the incidence and attributes of the tender 
 passion, professes his utter inability to comprehend how 
 any member of his own sex, with at most two exceptions, 
 can ever have been found worthy to be its object. ‘It 
 might be very well,’ he says, ‘if the Apollo Belvedere 
 should suddenly glow all over into life, and step forward 
 from the pedestal with that god-like air of his. But of 
 the misbegotten changelings who call themselves men 
 and prate intolerably over dinner-tables, I never saw one 
 who seemed worthy to inspire love—no, nor read of 
 any except Leonardo da Vinci and perhaps Goethe in his 
 
 youth.’ 
 
INTRODUCTION 21 
 
 The suggestion as to the Apollo Belvedere is in entire 
 harmony with the associations of the names which follow. 
 For if it had ever come to pass, as is conjectured in 
 Heine’s fantasy, that the gods of Greece, after their 
 worship ceased, fallen on days of adversity, and con- 
 strained to baser uses, had walked the earth as men, surely 
 no lives whereof record holds had come more naturally to 
 Apollo's lot than would those of Goethe and Leonardo ! 
 
 It would be vain to attempt to find better instances, 
 yet these give only a capricious support at best to 
 Stevenson’s contention. They afford far more proof 
 of his amazing temerity in attempting to view the 
 kingdom of sentiment from the feminine standpoint. 
 These two names he ranks together in isolation from the 
 rest of their sex—and this in respect precisely of that 
 condition wherein the records of their lives reveal the 
 least resemblance. Goethe was as susceptible and almost 
 as fickle as Jupiter himself. The story of his heart is a 
 romance with many chapters, each enshrining a new name, 
 and all ending abruptly at the stage at which the poet 
 remembers—at times somewhat tardily—the paramount 
 claims of his art. 
 
 But in the case of Leonardo there are no grounds for 
 supposing that any one such chapter was ever begun. None 
 of his biographers connect his name with that of any 
 woman in the way of love, nor do his own writings afford 
 any such indication. They show that he lived only for 
 the things of the mind. He would seem to have re- 
 nounced deliberately all thought of participation in the 
 tenderness of human relationship. He looked upon it 
 as alien to the artist’s supreme purpose: he must 
 
22 } INTRODUCTION 
 
 needs be solitary in order to live entirely for his art. 
 His conception of the mental conditions requisite for 
 the production of great art presupposes something 
 of that isolation expressed in Pater’s phrase: ‘each 
 mind keeping as a solitary prisoner its own dream of 
 a world.’ 
 
 The praise of solitude has ever been a fecund theme, 
 although much of the fervour of its votaries has resulted 
 in little more than a reverberation of the monkish jingle, 
 ‘O heata solitudo, O sola beatitudo.’ In so far as praise 
 of solitude is dispraise of the world and fellow-men and 
 the expression of desire to shun them and their activities 
 it is a sterile thing and worse. Solitude is unnatural 
 and only the use of it can justify the condition. May 
 be that even then the dream will never come to birth! 
 Certain it is that if it does we must suffer the pangs 
 alone ! 
 
 Concentration of the mind comes by solitude; and 
 in this, according to Leonardo, its value to the artist 
 consists, (Se tu sarai solo tu sarai tutto tuo.) 
 
 ‘If you are alone you belong entirely to yourself. 
 If you are accompanied even by one companion you 
 belong only half to yourself, or even less in proportion 
 to the thoughtlessness of his conduct. . . . If you must 
 have companionship choose it from your studio; it may 
 then help you to obtain the advantages which result from 
 different methods of study.’ 
 
 Such companionship of the studio implies some such 
 measure of equality of attainment as it can never have 
 been his own lot to meet with after leaving the circle of 
 Verrocchio and the art world of Florence. His own 
 
INTRODUCTION 23 
 
 later companions of the studio were his pupils and 
 servants, and the only one of these whom he admitted 
 to any degree of personal intimacy was Francesco de’ 
 Melzi, who seems to have stood to him in the concluding 
 years of, his life almost in the position of a son to a 
 father. 
 
 Behind all his strength lay springs of tenderness ; in 
 life confined within the strait limits whereby his spirit 
 proposed that its work should be more surely done, in 
 his art they are manifest, therein revealing the repression 
 of his life. His pictures are now so few that it would 
 be to his drawings that we should chiefly look for support 
 of this statement, and of these primarily perhaps to the 
 many studies for Madonna pictures, and the sketches of 
 children made in connection with them ; also, however, 
 to the two versions of the composition of the Madonna 
 and Child with S. Anne. The differences between that 
 in Burlington House and that in the Louvre show the 
 artist’s gradual growth of purpose. One motive, how- 
 ever, is found, in both, namely, that the Madonna is 
 represented as so entirely absorbed in her Child that she 
 is entirely unconscious of aught else. With the excep- 
 tion of the Madonna della Seggiola, and perhaps certain 
 others of Raphael’s Madonnas, there is no Madonna 
 picture in Italian art in which the conception is more 
 human or the ecstasy of motherhood is rendered with 
 greater tenderness, So ‘l'art console de la vie’; and 
 the same may be said in Leonardo’s case of nature 
 perhaps even more truly than of art. If indeed any 
 thought of consolation can be suffered in connection 
 with a life so confident and full! For man’s work is 
 
24 INTRODUCTION 
 
 his ultimate self. Such human hopes as begin and end 
 in the individual are puny even in their highest fulfil- 
 ment, and the processes of nature, whatever their final 
 end, seem eternal in contrast with their transience. He 
 interpreted man’s highest aim to consist in seeking to 
 know and to hand on the lamp of knowledge. 
 
 The task of the student who should attempt to discern 
 Leonardo amid the mass of tradition was compared with 
 that ascribed to himself by the author of 4eima. In one 
 of the noblest and most eloquently sustained passages of 
 that work, the poet characterises the investigation of 
 the forces of nature, and of the various phenomena of 
 earth, sea, and sky, as the highest of all the objects of 
 intellectual effort, and one which constituted in itself its 
 own highest reward. The lines serve as a description 
 of Leonardo’s purpose, and his writings reveal how far 
 this purpose was accomplished. 
 
 Non oculis solum pecudum miranda tueri 
 
 More, nec effusos in humum graue pascere corpus, 
 Nosse fidem rerum dubiasque exquirere causas, 
 Ingenium sacrare caputque attollere caelo, 
 
 Scire quot et quae sint magno natalia mundo 
 Principia, occasus metuunt an saecula pergunt,.. . 
 
 Et quaecumque iacent tanto miracula mundo 
 Non disiecta pati, nec aceruo condita rerum, 
 Sed manifesta notis certa disponere sede 
 Singula, diuina est animi ac iucunda uoluptas. 
 
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 
 
 In the opening lines of the volume of manuscript notes 
 ‘begun at Florence in the house of Piero di Braccio 
 Martelli, on the 22nd day of March, 1508,’ now in 
 the British Museum (Arundel MSS. 263), Leonardo 
 explains the method of its composition. The passage 
 may serve to summarise the impression made by the 
 whole mass of Leonardo’s manuscripts. ‘ This,’ he says, 
 ‘will be a collection without order, made up of many 
 sheets which I have copied here, hoping afterwards to 
 arrange them in order in their proper places according 
 to the subjects of which they treat; and I believe that 
 before I am at the end of this 1 shall have to :epeat the 
 same thing several times; and therefore, O reader, 
 blame me not, because the subjects are many, and the 
 memory cannot retain them and say “this I will not 
 write because I have already written it” ; and if I wished to 
 avoid falling into this mistake 1t would be necessary, in 
 order to prevent repetition, that on every occasion when I 
 wished to transcribe a passage I should always read over | 
 all the preceding portion, and this especially because long 
 periods of time elapse between one time of writing and 
 another.’ Certain pages in the volume of manuscript in 
 the British Museum would indeed seem to be of a much 
 earlier date than this introductory sentence, and the 
 
 whole body of the manuscripts as may be shown by the 
 i 25 
 
26 A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 
 
 time-references contained in them, extend over a period 
 of some forty years, from Leonardo’s early manhood to 
 his old age. He commenced them during the time of 
 his first residence in Florence, and was still adding to 
 them when at Amboise. 
 
 The contents of this ‘collection without order’ are so 
 diversified as to render wellnigh impossible any attempt 
 at formal classification. In addition to the numerous 
 fragments of letters, the personal records, the notes 
 relating to his work as an artist, and the fragments of 
 imaginative composition which are to be found therein, 
 it presents by far the most complete record of his mental 
 activity, and this may be said without exaggeration to 
 have extended into practically all the avenues of human 
 knowledge. These manuscripts serve in a sense to show 
 the mind in its workshop, busied in researching, in 
 making conjecture, and in recording phenomena, 
 tempering to its uses, in.so far as human instrument 
 may, the vast forces of nature. 
 
 He projected many treatises which should embody the 
 results of these researches. Notes in the manuscripts 
 themselves record the various stages of their composition. 
 Some still exist in a more or less complete form. Of 
 the fragments of others the order of arrangement is now 
 only a matter of conjecture. In the manuscripts at 
 Windsor, which treat mainly of anatomy, a note, dated 
 April 2, 1489, speaks of writing the book ‘about the 
 human figure.’ The manuscript given to the Ambrosian 
 Library by Cardinal Federico Borromeo, now MS. C. of 
 the Institut de France, which is a treatise on light and 
 shade, contains a note that ‘on the 23rd day of April 
 
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 27 
 
 1490, I commenced this book and recommenced the 
 horse ’—the latter reference being to the equestrian 
 statue of Francesco Sforza. In August 1499 a note in 
 the Codice Atlantico states that he was then writing 
 ‘upon movement and weight.’ These dates are, how- 
 ever, of relatively less importance, because each of these 
 subjects occupied his thoughts during a long period of 
 years. The two first formed a part of the artist’s com- 
 plete equipment as Leonardo conceived it: the third 
 found practical issue in his undertakings in canalisation 
 and engineering in Lombardy, Tuscany, Romagna, and 
 elsewhere. In connection with the former of these two 
 divisions of his activities may be cited the treatise on the 
 nature of water in the possession of the Earl of Leicester, 
 and the same subject is also treated of among others in 
 MS. F. of the Institut, which, according to a note, was 
 commenced at Milan on the 12th of September 1508. 
 The manuscripts as a whole are picturesquely described 
 in the diary of a certain Antonio de Beatis, the secretary 
 of the Cardinal of Aragon, who with his patron visited 
 Leonardo at Amboise in October 1517. The many 
 wanderings of the painter’s life were then ended, and he 
 was living with Francesco Melzi and his servant Battista 
 de Villanis in the manor house of Clcux, the gift of 
 Francis 1. The diary relates that he showed his guests 
 three pictures, the S. John, the Madonna with S. Anne, 
 and the portrait of a Florentine lady, painted at the 
 request of Guiliano de’ Medici, which cannot now be 
 identified. It further states that paralysis had attacked 
 his right hand, and that therefore he could no longer 
 paint with such sweetness as formerly, but still occupied 
 
28 A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 
 
 himself in making drawings and giving instruction to 
 others. (May the inference be that he then drew with 
 the left hand? If so he presumably used it in the 
 manuscripts, which are written backwards.) 
 
 ‘This gentleman has,’ he continues, ‘written of 
 anatomy with such wealth of detail, illustrating by his 
 art both limbs and muscles, nerves, veins and ligaments 
 of the inward parts, and of all that may be demonstrated 
 in the bodies of men and of women, in a way that has 
 never before been equalled by any one else. And this 
 we have seen with our own eyes, and he has also told us 
 that he has dissected more than thirty bodies of men 
 and women of all different ages. He has also treated of 
 the nature of water, of various machines, and of other 
 matters which he has dealt with in an endless number of 
 volumes, and all in the common tongue, which when they 
 are made public will be profitable and very delectable.’ 
 This description of the manuscripts—the only one by an 
 eyewitness during Leonardo’s lifetime—leads naturally 
 to the supposition that, if not all, at any rate by far the 
 greater part of them were in Leonardo’s possession at 
 the time that he went to France, and were at Cloux at 
 the time of his death. 
 
 _ The manuscripts then passed into the possession of 
 
 Francesco Melzi, to whom Leonardo in his will, dated 
 April 23, 1518, bequeathed ‘in return for the services and 
 favours done him in the past,’ ‘ each and all of the books 
 of which the said Testator is at present possessed, together 
 with the other instruments and portraits which belong to 
 his art and calling as a Painter.’ Méelzi returned to 
 Milan shortly after Leonardo’s death and took the 
 
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 29 
 
 manuscripts with him, and four years later a certain 
 Alberto Bendedeo, writing from Milan to Alfonso d’Este, 
 said that he believed that the Melzi whom Leonardo made 
 his heir was in possession of ‘such of his notebooks as 
 treated of anatomy and many other beautiful things.’ 
 Vasari visited Milan in 1566, and he states that Melzi, 
 whom he saw, and who was then ‘a beautiful and gentle 
 old man,’ possessed a great part of Leonardo’s papers of 
 the anatomy of the human body and kept them with as 
 much care as though they were relics. Some. of the 
 manuscripts had already at this time passed into other 
 hands, for Vasari refers to some which treated of painting 
 and methods of drawing and colouring as being then in 
 the possession of a certain Milanese painter whose name 
 he does not mention. The care which had been taken 
 of those in Melzi’s possession ceased at his death, which 
 occurred in 1570. Some years later no restriction was 
 placed by Melzi’s heirs upon the action of a certain 
 Lelio Gavardi di Asola, a tutor in the Melzi family, who 
 took thirteen of the volumes of manuscripts with him to 
 Florence for the purpose of disposing of them to the 
 Grand Duke, Francesco. The duke’s death, however, 
 prevented the realisation of this project, and Gavardi 
 subsequently took the volumes with him to Pisa. 
 Giovanni Ambrogio Mazzenta, a Milanese who was 
 then at the University of Pisa studying law, remonstrated 
 with Gavardi upon his conduct, and with such success 
 that on Mazzenta’s return to Milan in 1587 he took the 
 volumes with him for the purpose of restoring them to 
 the Melzi family. When, however, he attempted to 
 perform this duty Dr. Orazio Melzi was so astonished 
 
30 A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 
 
 at his solicitude in the matter that he made him a present 
 of all the thirteen volumes, telling him further that there 
 were many other drawings by Leonardo lying uncared 
 for in the attics of his villa at Vaprio. In 1590 
 Giovanni Ambrogio Mazzenta joined the Barnabite 
 Order and the volumes were then given by him to his 
 brothers. They seem to have talked somewhat freely 
 about the incident, and in consequence, according to 
 Ambrogio Mazzenta’s account, many people were filled 
 with the desire to obtain similar treasures, and Orazio 
 Melzi gave away freely drawings, clay models, anatomical 
 studies, and other precious relics from Leonardo’s studio. 
 Among the others who thus came into possession of 
 works by Leonardo was the sculptor Pompeo Leoni who 
 was employed in the service of the King of Spain. He 
 afterwards induced Orazio Melzi, by the promise of 
 obtaining for him official honours and preferment, to 
 appeal to Guido Mazzenta, in whose possession they then 
 were, to restore the volumes of Leonardo’s manuscripts 
 so that he might be enabled to present them to Philip 11. 
 Melzi’s entreaties were successful in obtaining the return 
 of seven volumes, and three of the others subsequently 
 passed into Pompeo Leoni’s possession on the death of 
 one of the Mazzenta. Of the remaining three, accord- 
 ing to Mazzenta’s account, one was given to the Cardinal 
 Federico Borromeo, and passed into the Ambrosian 
 Library, which he founded in 1603; another was given to 
 the painter Ambrogio Figini, who afterwards bequeathed 
 it to Ercole Bianchi; it was subsequently in the possession 
 of Joseph Smith, English Consul at Venice, and with 
 the sale of his effects in 1759 all record of it ends; the 
 
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 31 
 
 third was given to Charles Emmanuel, Duke of Savoy, 
 and nothing further is known as to its history. Professor 
 Govi has conjectured that it was perhaps burnt in one of 
 the fires which occurred in the Royal Library at Turin in 
 1667 or 1679. 
 
 Some of the volumes of the manuscripts which had 
 passed into the possession of Pompeo Leoni were after- 
 wards cut in pieces by him in order to form one large 
 volume from the leaves, together with some of the 
 drawings which he had obtained from Melzi’s villa at 
 Vaprio. This volume, known as the Codice Atlantico 
 on account of its size, contains four hundred and two 
 sheets and more than seventeen hundred drawings, and 
 bears on its cover the inscription :— 
 
 DISEGNI DI MACHINE ET 
 DELLE ARTI SECRETI 
 ET ALTRE COSE 
 DI LEONARDO DA VINCI 
 RACOLTI DA 
 POMPEO LEO 
 NI 
 
 Apparently the collector’s instinct proved stronger in 
 Pompeo Leoni than his original intention. He was 
 subsequently in Madrid where he was engaged in execut- 
 ing bronzes for the royal tombs in the Escurial, but there 
 is no evidence to show that he ever parted with any 
 of Leonardo’s manuscripts to Philip 11. The Codice 
 Atlantico remained in his possession until his death 
 in 1610, aad then passed to his heir, Polidoro Calchi, by 
 whom it was sold in 1625 to Count Galeazzo Arconati. 
 Two of Leonardo’s manuscripts in Pompeo Leoni’s 
 
32 A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 
 
 possession were included among his effects sold after his 
 death at Madrid, and were then bought by Don Juan 
 de Espina. It would seem probable that others of the 
 manuscripts in Pompeo Leoni’s possession descended to 
 his heir Calchi, and from him passed into the possession 
 of Count Arconati, because the latter in 1636 pre- 
 sented twelve volumes of Leonardo’s manuscripts to 
 the Ambrosian Library at Milan. The volume which 
 Mazzenta had given to Cardinal Federico Borromeo had 
 already been placed there in 1603, and in 1674 yet 
 another volume of Leonardo’s manuscripts was added by 
 the gift of Count Orazio Archinti. 
 
 Of the list of twelve manuscripts as described in Count 
 Arconati’s deed of gift to the Ambrosian Library, the 
 second was afterwards lost, and the fifth was removed 
 from the Library,—it being, as the description shows, 
 identical with the manuscript of Leonardo’s which in 
 about the year 1750 was bought from a Gaetano Caccia 
 of Novara by Carlo Trivulzio and is now in the posses- 
 sion of Prince Trivulzio at Milan—The remaining ten 
 manuscripts of the Arconati donation, together with 
 the two from Cardinal Federico Borromeo and Count 
 Archinti respectively, were in the Ambrosian Library 
 until 1796. There was then also with them a manuscript 
 of ten sheets which treated of the eye, the provenance of 
 which is unknown, but which it is conjectured had been 
 substituted for the manuscript now in the collection of 
 Prince Trivulzio. These thirteen manuscripts were all 
 remover .o Paris in the year 1796 in pursuance of the 
 decree of Bonaparte as General-in-Chief of the Army of 
 Italy of 30 Floréal An IV. (May 19, 1796), providing 
 
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 33 
 
 for the appointment of an agent who should select such 
 pictures and other works of art as might be worthy of 
 transmission to France. The Codice Atlantico was in 
 the Bibliothéque Nationale at Paris in August 1796. 
 The other twelve volumes of the manuscripts were 
 deposited in the Institut de France. In 1815 the Austrian 
 Ambassador, as representing Lombardy, made application 
 for the return of all the Leonardo manuscripts. The 
 request was complied with as regards the Codice 
 Atlantico, which was then restored to the Ambrosian 
 Library at Milan, but the twelve volumes in the library 
 of the Institut de France were apparently overlooked, 
 and there they have since remained. 
 
 On their arrival in France the manuscripts were 
 described by J. B. Venturi, who then marked them with 
 the lettering whereby they have subsequently been dis- 
 tinguished. He gave their total number as fourteen, 
 because MS. B contained an appendix of eighteen pages 
 which could be separated and considered as the four- 
 teenth volume. 
 
 This manuscript is identical with No. 3 in the Arconati 
 donation, which is described as having at the end a small 
 ‘volumetto’ of eighteen pages containing various mathe- 
 matical figures and drawings of birds. This ‘ volumetto’ 
 seems in fact to have been treated somewhat as Venturi 
 suggests by Count Guglielmo Libri, who frequently had 
 access to the manuscripts in the Institut de Ftance in the 
 early part of last century, and who apparently abstracted 
 it at some time previous to 1848, at which date its loss 
 was discovered. In 1868 it was sold by Libri to Count 
 
 Giacomo Manzoni of Lugo, and in 1892 it was acquired 
 c 
 
34 A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 
 
 from Count Manzoni’s heirs by M. Sabachnikoff, by 
 whom it was published in the following year as I/ Coaice 
 sul Volo degh Uccelli (edit. Piumati and Sabachnikoff, 
 Paris, 1893). 
 
 Two other manuscripts by Leonardo of sixty-eight 
 and twenty-six pages respectively, now in the Biblio- 
 théque Nationale (Nos. 2038 and 2037), must have 
 originally formed part of the manuscripts A and B of the 
 Institute. They tally both in the dimensions of the pages 
 and in the subjects of which they treat, and their total 
 numbers added to those of Manuscripts A and B respec- 
 tively do not amount to quite the full numbers of the 
 leaves which these two manuscripts possessed in 1636, 
 as described in the list of tk - Arconati donation. 
 The two manuscripts in the Biblioth¢que Nationale 
 were formerly in the collection of the late Earl of 
 Ashburnham, who purchased them in 1875 from Count 
 Libri, from whom, as we have seen, Count Manzoni had 
 purchased the little volume ‘on the Flight of Birds.’ 
 The mutilation of Manuscripts A and B of the Institute 
 
 and the removal of the ‘ volumetto’ was first discovered | 
 
 in the year 1848. Itis impossible to avoid the inference 
 that each was the work of Count Libri. The two 
 manuscripts of the Bibliothéque Nationale have been 
 included in the edition of the manuscripts of the Institute 
 published in facsimile, with a transcript and French 
 translation by M. Ravaisson-Mollien, in six volumes 
 
 (Paris, 1880-1891). 
 
 The Codice Atlantico has also now been published in 
 facsimile, with a transcript, under the direction of the 
 Accademia dei Lincei, at Rome (1894-1904); and the 
 
 ——— 
 
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 35 
 
 manuscript in the possession of Prince Trivulzio, which 
 was formerly as we have seen in the Ambrosian Library 
 as one of the Arconati bequest, has been published in 
 facsimile with a transcript by Signor Beltrami (Milan, 
 
 1892). | 
 
 We may now consider the Arconati bequest from 
 another standpoint. The count’s munificence was com- 
 memorated in the following inscription, which was set in 
 marble on the wall of the staircase of the Ambrosian 
 
 Library : 
 
 Leonardi . Vincii 
 manu . et . ingenio . celeberrimi 
 lucubrationum . volumina. XII 
 habes . o . civis 
 Galeaz . Arconatus 
 inter . optimates . tuos 
 bonarum . artium . cultor . optimus 
 repudiatis . regio . animo 
 quos . angliae . rex . pro. uno. tantum . offerebat 
 aureis . ter . mille . hispanicis 
 ne. tibi. tanti . viri . deesset . ornamentum 
 bibliothecae . ambrosianae . consecravit 
 ne. tanti. largitoris . deesset . memoria 
 quem . sanguis . quem . mores 
 Magno. Federico. fundatori 
 adstringunt 
 bibliothecae . conservatores 
 posuere 
 anno MDCXXXVII 
 
 ‘The glorious (boasting) inscription’—so described 
 in the Memoirs.of John Evelyn—has naturally attracted 
 the attention of English travellers. Evelyn records his 
 failure to obtain a sight of the manuscripts when he 
 visited Milan in 1646, owing to the keeper of them 
 
36 A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 
 
 being away and having taken the keys, but states that 
 he had been informed by the Lord Marshal, the Earl 
 of Arundel, that all of them were small except one 
 book, a huge folio containing four hundred leaves ‘full 
 of scratches of Indians,’ and ‘ whereas,’ he says, ‘ the in- 
 scription pretends that our King Charles had offered 
 41000 for them, my lord himself told me that it was 
 he who treated with Galeazzo for himselfe in the name 
 and by the permission of the king, and that the Duke of 
 Feria, who was then Governor, should make the bar- 
 gain: but my lord having seen them since did not think 
 them of so much worth.’ The inscription, however, 
 does not mention the name of the king. Addison, in 
 his ‘ Remarks on Several Parts of Italy,’ in describing his 
 visit to Milan in 1701, mentions the Ambrosian Library 
 as containing ‘a manuscript of Leonardus Vincius, wich 
 King James 1. could not procure, tho’ he profer’d for it 
 three thousa::4 spanish pistoles’; and the monarch in 
 question is also stated to have been James 1. in the 
 fuller record of the Arconati donation. The Duke of 
 Feria was Governor of Milan from 1610 to 1633, 
 during a part of the reign of both monarchs. 
 Apparently, however, the manuscripts only passed 
 into the possession of Count Arconati in 1625, the 
 year of the death of James 1., and this renders it more 
 probable that the monarch referred to was Charles 1. 
 But the question of under which king has relatively 
 little import, and with regard to the inscription, it may 
 perhaps be well to recall the dictum of Dr. Johnson, ‘in 
 lapidary inscriptions a man is not upon oath.’ The only 
 inference that can fairly be drawn from the present 
 
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 37 
 
 instance is that the manuscripts by Leonardo now in the 
 Royal Collection at Windsor did not: form part of the 
 Arconati Collection. This is also confirmed by the 
 testimony of Lord Arundel, as recounted by Evelyn. 
 That some of the Leonardo manuscripts at Windsor 
 were once in the possession of Lord Arundel is estab- 
 lished by the fact of the existence of an engraving of 
 one of the drawings by Hollar, whom Lord Arundel 
 brought from Prague and established in London, in- 
 scribed ‘Leonardus da Vinci sic olim delineavit. W. 
 Hollar fecit ex collectione Arundeliana.’ That some of 
 these Windsor manuscripts were also formerly in the 
 Collection of Pompeo Leoni is clearly shown by the 
 fact that one of the volumes is inscribed ‘ Disegni di 
 Leonardo da Vinci Restaurati da Pompeo Leoni.’ 
 
 Now two of the manuscripts in Pompeo Leoni’s col- 
 lection were, as has been already stated, purchased in 
 Madrid after his death by Don Juan de Espina; and 
 . Mr. Alfred Marks,—from whose important contribu- 
 tions to this branch of the subject in the Athenaeum of 
 February 23 and July 6, 1878, many of the foregoing 
 facts are derived,—has shown that for one at any 
 rate of these volumes, the Earl of Arundel was in 
 treaty with Don Juan de Espina. The evidence of this 
 is to be found in a note by Endymion Porter, of the date 
 1629, printed by Mr. Sainsbury in his Original Unpub- 
 lished Papers illustrative of the Life of Rubens :—‘ of such 
 things as my Lord Embassador S" Francis Cottington is 
 to send out of Spain for my Lord of Arondell ; and not 
 to forget the booke of drawings of Leonardo de Vinze 
 w is in Don Juan de Espinas hands’ (p. 294). Don 
 
38 A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 
 
 Juan seems for a time to have proved obdurate, for Lord 
 Arundel wrote on January 19th, 1636, to Lord Aston, 
 who was then ambassador to Spain, ‘I beseech y" be 
 mindfull of D. Jhon. de Spinas booke, if his foolish 
 humour change’ (p. 299). There the record breaks off. 
 But as Mr. Marks truly observes, there can be little doubt 
 that eventually a change did take place in Don Juan’s 
 ‘foolish humour.’ At whatever date this happened, the 
 volume passed into Lord Arundel’s possession. The 
 earl may either have been negotiating for himself or for 
 the king. If the former was the case, the book may 
 presumably have passed into the Royal Collection at any 
 time after 1646, when on the death of Lord Arundel, 
 his collections were partially dispersed. If not acquired 
 previously, the volume may have been bought in Holland 
 by an agent of Charles 11. 
 
 The earliest record of any of Leonardo’s manuscripts 
 or drawings as being in the royal possession occurs in 
 an inventory found by Dr. Richter in the Manuscript 
 Department of the British Museum, which states that 
 some drawings of Leonardo da Vinci, marked with a 
 cross, were delivered for her Majesty’s use in the year 
 1728. 
 
 Dr. Richter also cites a note in an inventory at 
 Windsor Castle written at the beginning of last century, 
 in which a drawing of Leonardo’s is referred to as not 
 having been in the volume compiled by Pompeo Leoni, 
 but in one of the volumes in the Buonfiluolo Collection 
 bought at Venice. Nothing, apparently, is known about 
 the collection here referred to, but the note is important 
 as tending to prove that the manuscripts by Leonardo 
 
 ot PS PIRES 
 
 ee ee 
 
 LK ee ee 
 
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 39 
 
 now at Windsor, were not all acquired at the same 
 time, and did not all form part of Pompeo Leoni’s 
 collection. 
 
 The volume of manuscript now in the British Museum 
 (Arundel MSS., 263) was certainly once in the possession 
 of Lord Arundel. Nothing is known of its history 
 previous to this, and whether or no it belonged to 
 Pompeo Leoni, or was acquired by purchase from Don 
 Juan de Espina, it would be idle to attempt to con- 
 jecture. Lord Arundel had numerous agents in various 
 parts of Europe, who were- employed in collecting 
 antiquities and works of art. It may, however, be noted 
 that the greater part of his collection of manuscripts was 
 acquired by the earl himself at Nuremberg in 1636, 
 and had formerly belonged to Wilibald Pirkheimer the 
 humanist, the friend of Erasmus and Durer. If any 
 opportunity presented itself to him, Pirkheimer would 
 certainly have possessed himself of any manuscript of 
 Leonardo’s ; but to suppose him to have done so would 
 be to assume that some of the manuscripts passed into 
 other hands during Leonardo’s life-time, and this, though 
 by no means impossible, is at any rate improbable. 
 
 The only other manuscripts by Leonardo, now known 
 to exist, with the exceptions’ of a few separate sheets of 
 sketches and diagrams with explanatory text, are three 
 small note-books in the Forster Library at South Ken- 
 sington, and a volume of seventy-two pages in the 
 possession of the Earl of Leicester at Holkham Hall. 
 The former were acquired in Vienna for a small sum by 
 the first Earl of Lytton and by him presented to Mr. 
 Forster ; the latter, according to a note on the title-page, 
 
40 A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 
 
 once belonged to the painter Giuseppe Ghezzi, who was 
 living in Rome at the beginning of the eighteenth century, 
 it having presumably been acquired by the first Earl of 
 Leicester, who spent some years in Rome previous to 
 1775, and there acquired many art treasures. Its 
 previous history is unknown. This volume—a treatise 
 on the nature of water—is in all probability that referred 
 to by Rafaelle du Fresne in the sketch of Leonardo’s 
 life which appears in his edition of the Trattato della 
 Pittura, published in Paris in 1651, where it is stated 
 that ‘the undertaking of the canal of the Martesana was 
 the occasion of his writing a book on the nature, weight, 
 and motion of water, full of a great number of drawings 
 of various wheels and engines for mills to regulate the 
 flow of water and raise it to a height.’ 
 
 Of such of the manuscripts at Windsor as treat of 
 anatomy, two volumes with facsimiles, transcripts, and 
 translations have been issued by Messrs. Piumati and 
 Sabachnikoff (Paris, 1898), (Turin, 1901). The rest of 
 the manuscripts at Windsor and the other manuscripts 
 in England have not as yet been published, though fac- 
 similes of those at Windsor and of portions of those 
 in London have been issued in a series of volumes by 
 Rouveyre. 
 
 As Leonardo’s fame as a writer has chiefly rested upon 
 the Treatise on Painting, it may not be out of place here 
 to attempt to state the relation which this work bears to 
 the original manuscripts. 
 
 The Treatise was first published by Rafaelle du Fresne, 
 in Paris, in 1651, a French translation by Roland Freard 
 sieur de Chambrai being also issued in the same year. 
 
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 41 
 
 Du Fresne derived his text from two old copies of 
 MS. 834 in the Barberini Library, which manuscript 
 has now presumably been transferred to the Vatican, 
 at the same time as the other contents of that Library. 
 One of these copies had been made by the Cavaliere 
 Cassiano del Pozzo, who had given it in 1640 to M. 
 Chanteloup, by whom it was presented to du Fresne for 
 the preparation of his edition; the other was lent him 
 for the same object by M. Thevenot. 
 
 Another edition of the Treatise was issued in 1817 by 
 Guglielmo Manzi, who took as his text a manuscript in 
 the Vatican Library (Cod. Vat. (Urbinas) 1270), which 
 had formerly belonged to the Library of the Dukes of 
 Urbino. This manuscript is by far the more complete 
 of the two, five out of the eight books which it contains 
 being wanting in the version followed by du Fresne. 
 There are, however, many omissions in Manzi’s edition, 
 and the only adequate critical edition of the Vatican 
 manuscript is that published by H. Ludwig (Leonardo 
 da Vinci: Das Buch von der Malerei (Bd. xv-xviil 
 of Quellenschrifien fir Kunstgeschichte, etc., Edit. R. 
 Fitelberger v. Edelberg), Vienna, 1882, Stuttgart 1885). 
 This contains the complete text, together with a German 
 translation and commentary, and also an analysis of the 
 differences which exist between the manuscripts in the 
 Vatican and Leonardo’s own manuscripts. 
 
 The Vatican manuscript probably dates from the 
 beginning of the sixteenth century. It has been ascribed 
 to some immediate pupil of Leonardo’s, for choice either 
 Francesco Melzi or Salai, but there is no evidence which 
 can be held to establish this view. Its close connection 
 
42 A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 
 
 with Leonardo is however indisputable. Whether this 
 be the original form or no, the compilation was un- 
 doubtedly made previous to the dispersal of the manu- 
 scripts. About a quarter of the whole number of 
 paragraphs (two hundred and twenty-five out of nine 
 hundred and forty-four) are identical with passages in 
 the extant manuscripts. Many others, which are not 
 now to be found in any form in the manuscripts, yet 
 carry their lineage incontestably, and would afford a 
 sufficient proof, were this lacking in the chequered history 
 of the various volumes, that some of the manuscripts 
 have now perished ; that, as with Leonardo as painter so 
 also as writer, time has spared only the fragments of his 
 work, The compiler of the Treatise on Painting had 
 access to manuscripts, and probably also to sources of 
 information as to the artist’s intentions, of which we have 
 no record. He presumably followed what he conceived 
 to be the scheme of the artist’s work. Nevertheless, 
 Leonardo cannot be adjudged directly or even indirectly 
 responsible for the arrangement and divisions of this 
 treatise, and it is somewhat difficult to credit him with 
 the whole of the contents. Certain of the passages read 
 rather as repetitions by a pupil of a theme expounded by 
 the master. 
 
 Did Leonardo himself ever give his work definite 
 shape? Did he write a treatise on painting or only parts 
 of one? In Fra Luca Pacioli’s dedication to Ludovic 
 Sforza of the De Divina Proportione, dated February 9, 
 1498, he speaks of Leonardo as having finished ‘il Libro 
 de Pictura et movimenti humani,’ and Dr. Ludwig, who 
 apparently accepts this statement, puts forward the 
 
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 43 
 
 supposition that the treatise was in the possession of 
 Ludovic and probably became lost at the time of the 
 French invasion of Milan. 
 
 On this same occasion, according to both Vasari and 
 Lomazzo, there also perished a treatise by Leonardo on 
 the anatomy of the horse, which he had written<in the 
 course of his studies for the Sforza statue. 
 
 Vasari, as we have seen, mentions some writings by 
 Leonardo ‘ which treat of painting and of the methods of 
 drawing and colouring’ as being then in the possession 
 of a Milanese painter, who had recently been to see him 
 in Florence to discuss their publication, and had taken 
 them to Rome in order to carry his intention into effect, 
 though with what result Vasari could not say. These 
 writings are stated to be ‘in characters written with the 
 left hand, backwards,’ and therefore they cannot possibly 
 be identical either with the Barberini or the Vatican 
 manuscript. Seeing that Vasari wrote during Melzi’s 
 lifetime, it is reasonable to infer that this manuscript had 
 at an early date become separated from the others and 
 therefore did not form part of the general mass of the 
 manuscripts which passed into Melzi’s possession at 
 Leonardi’s death, since Vasari states that he kept these 
 as though they were relics. As to whether this manu- 
 script was identical with the work to which Fra Luca 
 Pacioli referred, there is no sufficient evidence on which 
 to form an opinion. Moreover, the Frate’s testimony 
 must not be interpreted too literally. The words of the 
 dedication of the De Divina Proportione would naturally 
 also suggest that the statue of Francesco Sforza was 
 actually cast in bronze, but the general weight of evidence, 
 
44 A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 
 
 including that of Leonardo’s own letters, forbids any 
 such supposition. So, in like manner, it may perhaps 
 have been that in the case of the Treatise on Painting he 
 may have spoken of the rough drafts and fragments as 
 though they were the completed work. 
 
 The work itself grew continually in the mind of the 
 author. It was moulded and recast times without number 
 as his purpose changed and expanded in his progress 
 along each new avenue of study that revealed afresh the 
 kinship of art and nature. It is certain that he never 
 wrote ‘finis.’ It is at any rate possible that he never 
 halted in investigation for so long time as would be 
 necessary to arrange and classify what he had written— 
 that he left all this to a more convenient season. Genius, 
 we should remember, is not apt to be synthetic. 
 
 Note.—In the references to the manuscripts which follow 
 the following abbreviations occur :— 
 
 C. 4.=Codice Atlantico. 
 A, B, etc., to I, and K, L, W=MSS. 4, B, etc., to J, and 
 K, L, M of the Library of the Institut de France. 
 
 MSS. 2037 and 2038 Bib. Nat.=Nos. 2037 and 2038, 
 Italian MSS. Bibliotheque Nationale. 
 
 Tr.=Codice Trivulziano. 
 B. M. 263 Ar.=British Museum, Arundel MSS. No. 263. 
 
 S. K. M. i-iii=South Kensington Museum (Forster 
 Bequest) MSS. I-III. 
 
 Leic.= MS. in possession of Earl of Leicester. 
 R.= Richter, J. P., Literary Works of L. da V. 
 
PROEM 
 
 SzEInG that I cannot choose any subject of great 
 utility or pleasure, because my predecessors have already 
 taken as their own all useful and necessary themes, 
 I will do like one who, because of his poverty, is 
 the last to arrive at the fair, and not being able other- 
 wise to provide himself, chooses all the things which 
 others have already looked over and not taken, but 
 refused as being of little value. With these despised 
 and rejected wares—the leavings of many buyers— 
 I will load my modest pack, and therewith take my 
 course, distributing, not indeed amid the great cities, 
 but among the mean hamlets, and taking such reward 
 
 as befits the things | offer. 
 (C. 4. 119 v. a.) 
 
 I am fully aware that the fact of my not being 
 a man of letters may cause certain arrogant persons 
 to think that they may with reason censure me, 
 alleging that I am a man ignorant of book-learning. 
 Foolish folk! Do they not know that I might retort 
 by saying, as did Marius to the Roman Patricians, 
 ‘They who themselves go about adorned in the labour 
 of others will not permit me my own.’ They will 
 say that because of my lack of book-learning, I 
 
 cannot properly express what I desire to treat of. 
 45 
 
46 PROEM 
 
 Do they not know that my subjects require for their 
 exposition experience rather than the words of others? 
 And since experience has been the mistress of who- 
 ever has written well, I take her as my mistress, and 
 
 to her in all points make my appeal. . 
 (C. A. 119 %. a.) 
 
BOOK I 
 
 LIFE 
 
 Tuov, O God, dost sell unto us all good things at the 
 price of labour. (Windsor M88. R 1133.) 
 
 I obey thee, O Lord, first because of the love which 
 
 I ought reasonably to bear thee ; secondly, because thou 
 knowest how to shorten or prolong the lives of men. 
 
 (8. K. M. iii. 29 r.) 
 
 Our body is subject to heaven, and heaven is subject 
 to the spirit. 7 (Tr. Tav. 65 a.) 
 
 The soul desires to dwell in the body because without 
 the members of that body it can neither act nor feel. 
 (C. 4. 59 r. 4.) 
 
 How admirable thy justice, O thou first mover! Thou 
 hast not willed that any power should lack the processes 
 or qualities necessary for its results. (A 247) 
 
 Instrumental or mechanical science is the noblest and 
 above all others the most useful, seeing that by means of 
 it all animated bodies which have movement perform all 
 their actions; and the origin of these movements is at 
 the centre of their gravity, which is placed in the middle 
 
 with unequal weights at the sides of it, and it has 
 a7 
 
48 OF THE SOUL AND THE BODY 
 
 scarcity or abundance of muscles and also the action of a 
 lever and counter lever. (Sul volo degli Uccelli, 3 r.) 
 
 The soul can never be infected by the corruption of 
 the body, but acts in the body like the wind which causes 
 the sound of the organ, wherein if one of the pipes is 
 spoiled, the wind cannot produce a good result in that 
 pipe. (Tr. Tao, Fra) 
 
 Whoever would see in what state the soul dwells 
 within the body, let him mark how this body uses its 
 daily habitation, for if this be confused and without 
 order, then will the body be kept in disorder and con- 
 fusion by the soul. (C. A. 76 r. a.) 
 
 Music has two ills, the one mortal, the other wasting ; 
 the mortal is ever allied with the instant which follows 
 that of the music’s utterance, the wasting ill lies in its 
 
 repetition, making it seem contemptible and mean. 
 (C. 4. 382 v. 2.) 
 
 The imitation of the antique is more to be praised 
 than that of the modern. (C. 4. 147 2.) 
 
 In life beauty perishes, not in art. = (8. K. M. iii. 72 r.) 
 
 The painter contends with and rivals nature. 
 (S. K. M. iti. 44 2.) 
 
 The senses are of the earth, the reason stands apart 
 from them in contemplation. (Zr. Tav. 60 a.) 
 
 Where there is most power of feeling, there of martyrs 
 is the greatest martyr. ' ATr. Tav. 35 @.) 
 
 ee Pe ae 
 
OF THE OPPORTUNITY OF LIFE 49 
 
 Tears come from the heart not from the brain. 
 (Windsor MSS. R 815.) 
 
 Why does the eye see a thing more clearly in dreams 
 than the imagination when awake? 
 (B. M. 263, Ar. 278 v.) 
 
 What is it that is much desired by men, but which 
 they know not while possessing? It is sleep. 
 (7 56 [8] 7.) 
 
 The thoughts turn towards hope. (C. A. 68 v. 4.) 
 
 Pray hold me not in scorn! Iam not poor! Poor 
 rather is the man who desires many things. Where shall 
 I take my place? Where in a little time from hence- 
 forth you shall know. Do you answer for yourself! 
 From henceforth in a little time. . . 
 
 (C4 Die igs) 
 
 Vows begin when hope dies. (H 48 v.) 
 
 If liberty is dear to you may you never discever that 
 my face is love’s prison. (8. K. M. iii, 10 v.) 
 
 The lover is drawn by the thing loved, as the sense 
 is by that which it perceives, and it unites with 
 it, and they become one and the same thing. The 
 work is the first. thing born of the union ; if the thing 
 that is loved be base, the lover becomes base. When the 
 thing taken into union is in harmony with that which 
 receives it, there follow rejoicing and pleasure and satis- 
 faction. When the lover is united to that which is loved 
 it finds rest there: when the burden is laid down there 
 
 it finds rest. (Tr. Tav. 9 4.) 
 D 
 
50 OF THE SPIRIT’S LONGING TO RETURN 
 
 Behold now the hope and desire to go back to our 
 own country, and to return to our former state, how 
 like it is to the moth with the light! And the man who 
 with perpetual longing ever looks forward with joy to 
 each new spring and each new summer, and to the new 
 months and the new years, deeming that the things he 
 longs for are too slow in coming, does not perceive that 
 he is longing for his own destruction. But this longing 
 is the quintessence and spirit of the elements, which, 
 finding itself imprisoned within the life of the human 
 body,’ desires continually to return to its source. And I 
 would have you to know that this very same longing is 
 that quintessence inherent in nature, and that man is a 
 type of the world. (B. M. 263, Ar. 156 v.) 
 
 In youth acquire that which may requite you for the 
 deprivations of old age; and if you are mindful that old 
 age has wisdom for its food, you will so exert yourself in 
 youth, that your old age will not lack sustenance. 
 
 (C. 4.412 454) 
 
 We have no lack of system or device to measure and 
 to parcel out these poor days of ours; wherein it should 
 be our pleasure that they be not squandered or suffered 
 to pass away in vain, and without meed of honour, 
 leaving no record of themselves in the minds of men ; 
 to the end that this our poor course may not be sped in 
 vain. , (C. 4. 12 v, a.) 
 
 O thou that sleepest, what is sleep? Sleep is an 
 image of death. Oh, why not let your work be such that 
 
 14MS. ‘dello vmano chorpo.’ 
 
moyen Stel 
 Fahad vara ee) te - ofiew) eae he 
 
 STUDY OF A SKULL IN SECTION 
 
 ’ TO SHOW THE BONY CAVITIES OF THE FACE 
 
 Face p. §© 
 
OF LIFE AND DEATH 51 
 
 after death you become an image of immortality; as in 
 life you become when sleeping like unto the hapless 
 dead. | (C. A. 76 2. 2.) 
 
 Every evil leaves a sorrow in the memory except the 
 supreme evil, death, and this destroys memory itself 
 together with life. aH 33:0.) 
 
 As a well-spent day brings happy sleep, so life well 
 used brings happy death. (Ir. Tav. 28 2.) 
 
 While I thought that I was learning how to live, I 
 have been learning how to die. (C. 4. 252 7. 2.) 
 
 The age as it flies glides secretly and deceives one and 
 another ; nothing is more fleeting than the years, but he 
 who sows virtue reaps honour. (C. 4.71 2. 2.) 
 
 Iron rusts from disuse ; stagnant water loses its purity 
 and in cold weather becomes frozen; even so does in- 
 action sap the vigour of the mind. (C. A. 289 2. ¢.) 
 
 Life well spent is long. (Tr. Tav. 63 a.) 
 
 In rivers, the water that you touch is the last of what 
 has passed and the first of that which comes: so with 
 time present. (Tr. Tav. 63 a.) 
 
 Wrongfully do men lament the flight of time, accusing 
 it of being too swift, and not perceiving that its period 
 is yet sufficient ; but good memory wherewith nature 
 has endowed us causes everything long past to seem 
 present. (C. 4. 76 r. a.) 
 
52 OF TIME THE DESTROYER 
 
 Our judgment does not reckon in their exact and 
 proper order things which have come to pass at different 
 periods of time ; for many things which happened many 
 years ago will seem nearly related to the present, and 
 many things that are recent will seem ancient, extending 
 back to the far-off period of our youth. And so it is 
 with the eye, with regard to distant things, which when 
 illumined by the sun seem near to the eye, while many 
 things which are near seem far off. (C. A. 29 v. 4.) 
 
 O Time, thou that consumest all things! O envious 
 age, thou destroyest all things and devourest all things 
 with the hard teeth of the years, little by little, in slow 
 death! Helen, when she looked in her mirror and saw 
 the withered wrinkles which old age had made in her 
 face, wept, and wondered to herself why ever she had 
 twice been carried away. 
 
 O Time, thou that consumest all things! O envious 
 
 age, whereby all things are consumed ! 
 (C. 4.717. a.) 
 
 Just as eating contrary to the inclination is injurious 
 to the health, so study without desire spoils the memory, 
 
 and it retains nothing that it takes in. 
 (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 34 r.) 
 
 Wood feeds the fire that consumes it. 
 (MS. 2038, Bid. Nat. 34 0.) 
 
 Call not that riches which may be lost; virtue is our 
 true wealth, and the true reward of its possessor. It 
 cannot be lost ; it will not abandon us unless life itself 
 first leaves us. As for property and material wealth, 
 
OF THE PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE 53 
 
 these you should ever hold in fear ; full often they leave 
 their possessor in ignominy mocked at for having lost 
 possession of them. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 34 v.) 
 
 HOW IN ALL TRAVELS ONE MAY LEARN 
 
 Thjs benign nature so provides that all over the world 
 you find something to imitate. 
 
 (MS. 2038, Bid, Nat. 31 7.) 
 
 The supreme misfortune is when theory outstrips 
 
 performance. (MS. 2038, Bid. Nat. 33 v-) 
 
 The natural desire of good men is knowledge. 
 (C. A. 119 @ 4.) 
 
 The knowledge of past time and of the position of the 
 
 earth is the adornment and the food of human minds. 
 (Ca a8 7s Uae) 
 
 Nothing can be written as the result of new researches. 
 (Tr. Tav. §2 2.) 
 
 All our knowledge originates in opinions. 
 (Tr. Tao. 41 4.) 
 
 Shun those studies in which the wark that results 
 dies with the worker. (S. K. M. iii. 55 r.) 
 
 The idea or the faculty of imagination is both rudder 
 and bridle to the senses, inasmuch as the thing imagined 
 moves the sense. 
 
 Pre-imagining is the imagining of things that are 
 to be, 
 
 Post-imagining is the imagining of things that are 
 past. (Windsor MSS. DelP Anat. Fogli B20.) 
 
54 OF THE INTELLECTUAL LIFE 
 
 Whoever in discussion adduces authority uses not 
 intellect but rather memory. (C. 4.761. a.) 
 
 Good literature proceeds from men of natural probity, 
 and since one ought rather to praise the inception than 
 the result, you should give greater praise to a man of 
 probity unskilled in letters than to one skilled in letters 
 but devoid of probity. (Co AGO roa) 
 
 Poor is the pupil who does not surpass his master. 
 (8. K. M. iti. 66 v.) 
 
 Science is the captain, practice the soldiers. 
 (J 130 [82] r.) 
 To devise is the work of the master, to execute the 
 act of the servant. (C. A. 109 #. 2.) 
 
 Every part is disposed to unite with the whole, that it 
 may thereby escape from its own incompleteness. 
 (C. A. $9 r. 4.) 
 
 There is no certainty where one can neither apply 
 any of the mathematical sciences nor any of those which 
 are based upon the mathematical sciences. 
 
 (G 96 v.) 
 
 You who speculate on the nature of things, I praise 
 you not for knowing the processes which nature 
 ordinarily effects of herself, but rejoice if so be that you 
 know the issue of such things as your mind conceives. 
 
 (G 47 17.) 
 
 There is no result in nature without a cause ; under- 
 stand the cause and you will have no need of the 
 experiment. (C. A. 147 9. 4.) 
 
OF THE LAWS OF NATURE 55 
 
 The lying interpreters of nature assert that mercury 
 is a common factor in all the metals; they forget that 
 nature varies its factors according to the variety of the 
 things which it desires to produce in the world. 
 
 (C. 4.76 0. a.) 
 
 Nature never breaks her own law. (E 43 2.) 
 
 Nature is constrained by the order of her own law 
 which lives and works within her. (C 23 2.) 
 
 Necessity is the mistress and guide of nature. Ne- 
 cessity is the theme and artificer of nature, the bridle 
 and the eternal law. (8. K. M. iti. 43.2.) 
 
 Weight, pressure, and accidental movement together 
 with resistance are the four accidental powers in which 
 all the visible works of mortals have their existence and 
 their end. } (8. K. M. i. 116 2.) 
 
 Every weight tends to fall towards the centre by the 
 shortest way. (C 28 ».) 
 
 All the elements when removed from their natural 
 place desire to return there, especially fire, water, and 
 earth. (C 26 #.) 
 
 O mathematicians, throw light on this error. The 
 spirit has not voice, for where there is voice there is 
 a body, and where there is a body there is occupation of 
 space which prevents the eye from seeing things situated 
 beyond this space ; consequently this body of itself fills 
 
 the whole surrounding air, that is by its images. 
 (C. A. 190 wv. 3.) 
 
56 OF IMAGES AND MOVEMENTS 
 
 HOW THE MOVEMENTS OF THE EYE, THE RAY OF THE SUN 
 AND THE MIND ARE THE SWIFTEST THAT CAN BE 
 
 The sun so soon as ever it appears in the east instantly 
 proceeds with its rays to the west; and these are made 
 up of three incorporeal forces, namely radiance, heat, and 
 the image of the shape which produces these. 
 
 The eye so soon as ever it is opened beholds all the 
 stars of our hemisphere. 
 
 The mind passes in an instant from the east to the 
 west ; and all the great incorporeal things resemble these 
 very closely in their speed. (C. A. 204 v, a.) 
 
 A PROOF OF HOW OBJECTS COME TO THE EYE 
 
 After looking at the sun or other luminous object and 
 then closing the eyes you will continue to see it as 
 before within the eye for a considerable space of time. 
 This is a token that the images enter within the eye. 
 
 (C. A. 204 7. a.) 
 
 Just as a stone flung into the water becomes the centre 
 and cause of various circles, and a sound produced in 
 the air spreads itself out in circles, so each body situated 
 in the luminous air is spread out circle-wise and fills 
 the surrounding parts with infinite images of itself and 
 is present all in the whole and all in every part. — 
 
 (49 4) 
 
 Experience is never at fault ; it is only your judgment 
 that is in error in promising itself such results from ex- 
 perience as are not caused by our experiments. For 
 having given a beginning, what follows from it must 
 necessarily be a natural development of such a beginning, 
 
OF EXPERIENCE 57 
 
 unless it has been subject to a contrary influence, while, 
 if it is affected by any contrary influence, the result which 
 ought to follow from the aforesaid beginning will be 
 found to partake of this contrary influence in a greater 
 or less degree in proportion as the said influence is 
 
 more or less powerful than the aforesaid beginning. 
 (C. A. 154 7. 4.) 
 
 Experience is not at fault; it is only our judgment 
 that is in error in promising itself from experience things 
 which are not within her power. 
 
 Wrongly do men cry out against experience and with 
 bitter reproaches accuse her of deceitfulness. Let ex- 
 perience alone, and rather turn your complaints against 
 your own. ignorance, which causes you to be so carried 
 away by your vain and insensate desires as to expect from 
 experience things which are not within her power ! 
 
 Wrongly do men cry out against innocent experience, 
 
 accusing her often of deceit and lying demonstrations ! 
 (Cy A. 154° 9, 4:) 
 
 Nature is full of infinite causes which were never set 
 forth in experience. (118 r.) 
 
 I reveal to men the origin of the first, or perhaps 
 
 the second, cause of their existence. 
 (Windsor MSS. R 841.) 
 
 Falsehood is so utterly vile that though it should 
 praise the great works of God it offends against His 
 divinity ; truth is of such excellence that if it praise the 
 meanest things they become ennobled. 
 
 Without doubt truth stands to falsehood in the relation 
 
58 OF TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD 
 
 of light to darkness, and truth is in itself of such ex- 
 cellence that even when it treats of humble and lowly 
 matters it yet immeasurably outweighs the sophistries 
 and falsehoods which are spread out over great and 
 high-sounding discourses; for though we have set up 
 falsehood as a fifth element in our mental state it yet 
 remains that the truth of things is the chief food of 
 all finer intellects—though not indeed of wandering 
 wits. 
 
 But you who live in dreams—the specious reasonings, 
 the feints which pala players might use, if only they 
 treat of things vast and uncertain, please you more 
 than do the things which are sure and natural and of 
 no such high pretension. (Sul Volo degli Uccelli, 12 r.) 
 
 The line that is straightest offers most resistance. 
 (Tr. Tav. 24 a.) 
 
 He who has most possessions should have the greatest 
 fear of loss. (C. A. 109 v. a.) 
 
 Supreme happiness will be the greatest cause of misery, 
 and the perfection of wisdom the occasion of folly. 
 (C. 4. 39 v. ¢.) 
 
 As courage endangers life even so fear preserves it. 
 Threats only serve as weapons to the threatened. 
 
 Who walks rightly seldom falls. 
 
 You do ill if you praise, but worse if you censure 
 what you do not rightly understand. (C. A. 76 v. a.) 
 
 Who goes not ever in fear sustains many injuries and 
 often repents. (C. 4. 170 7. 4.) 
 
APHORISMS 59 
 
 To speak well of a worthless man is like speaking ill 
 of a good man. (8. K. M. iii. 41 2.) 
 
 Folly is the buckler of shame as importunity is of 
 poverty. (Tr. Tav. 52 a.) 
 
 Fear springs to life more quickly than anything else. 
 (LZ go v.) 
 
 As evil that harms,me not even so is good which does 
 not profit me. 
 
 Who injures others regards not himself. (M 4,7.) 
 Truth alone was the daughter of time. (M 58 w.) 
 He who does not value life deserves it not. = (I. 15 r.) 
 
 Ask counsel of him who governs himself well. 
 
 Justice requires power, intelligence, and will. It 
 resembles the queen bee. 
 
 He who neglects to punish evil sanctions the doing 
 thereof. 
 
 He who takes the snake by the tail is afterwards 
 bitten by it. } 
 He who digs the pit upon him will it fall in ruin. 
 (#7 118 [25 r.] v.) 
 He who thinks little makes many mistakes. 
 No counsel is more trustworthy than that which is 
 
 given uport ships that are in peril. 
 
 Let him expect disaster who shapes his course on a 
 young man’s counsel. | (H 119 [24 2] 7.) 
 
60 APHORISMS 
 
 He who expects from experience what she does not 
 possess takes leave of reason. (C. A. 299 r. 6.) 
 
 Happy is that estate which is seen by the eye of its 
 lord. | 
 
 This by experience is proved, that he who never puts 
 his trust in any man will never be deceived. 
 (C. 4. 344738,) 
 
 The memory of benefits is frail as against ingratitude. 
 Reprove a friend in secret but praise him before others. 
 
 He who walks in fear of dangers will not perish in 
 consequence thereof. 
 
 Lie not about the past. (H 16 v.) 
 Bars of gold are refined in the fire. (H 98 [44 4is v.] r.) 
 
 It is by testing that we discern fine gold. 
 
 As is the mould so will be the cast. 
 (H 100 [43 7.] 7.) 
 
 Every wrong shall be set right. | (H 99 [44 2.] 7.) 
 Constancy. Not he who begins, but he who perseveres. 
 (H 101 [42 2] 7.) 
 
 He who strips the wall bare on him will it fall. 
 
 He who cuts down the tree on him it takes vengeance 
 in its fall. (H 118 [25 v.] 7.) 
 
 Obstacles cannot bend me. 
 
 Every obstacle yields to effort. 
 
 He who fixes his course by a star changes not. 
 (Windsor MSS, R 682.) 
 
ALLEGORIES 61 
 
 A SIMILE OF PATIENCE 
 
 Patience serves as a protection against wrongs as clothes 
 do against cold. For if you put on more clothes as the 
 cold increases it will have no power to hurt you. So in 
 like manner you must grow in patience when you meet 
 with great wrongs, and they will then be powerless to 
 vex your mind. (C. 4.117 0. 4.) 
 
 When fortune comes seize her with a firm hand,—in 
 front, I counsel you, for behind she is bald. 
 (C. A. 76 v. a.) 
 
 A simile. A vessel of unbaked clay when broken may 
 be remoulded, but not one that has passed through the 
 
 fire. (Tr. Tav. 68 a.) 
 
 Fame should be represented in the shape of a bird, 
 
 but with the whole figure covered with tongues instead 
 of feathers. (B 30.) 
 
 Where fortune enters, there envy lays siege, and 
 strives against it, and when this departs it leaves anguish 
 and remorse behind. (C. A. 76 v. a.) 
 
 Envy wounds by base calumnies, that is by slander, at 
 which virtue is filled with dismay. (H 60 [12] «.) 
 
 Good Report soars and. rises up to heaven, for virtuous 
 things find favour with God. Evil Report should be 
 shown inverted, for all°her works are contrary to God 
 and tend towards hell. (H 61 [13] 7.) 
 
 This envy is represented making a contemptuous 
 
62 ALLEGORIES 
 
 motion towards heaven, because if she could she would 
 use her strength against God. She is made with a mask 
 upon her face of fair appearance. She is made wounded 
 in the sight by palm and olive. She is made wounded in 
 the ear by laurel and myrtle to signify that victory and 
 truth offend her. She is made with many lightnings 
 issuing forth from her to denote her evil speaking. She 
 is made lean and wizened because she is ever wasting in 
 perpetual desire. She is made with a fiery serpent 
 gnawing at her heart. She is given a quiver with 
 tongues for arrows, because with the tongue she often 
 offends, and she is made with a leopard’s skin, since the 
 leopard from envy slays the lion by guile. She is given 
 a vase in her hand full of flowers, and beneath these 
 filled with scorpions and toads and other venomous 
 things. She is made riding upon death, because envy 
 never dying has lordship over him ; and death is made 
 with a bridle in his mouth and laden with various 
 
 weapons, since these are all the instruments of death. 
 (Oxford Drawings, Part ti. No. 6.) 
 
 In the moment when virtue is born she gives birth to 
 envy against herself, and a body shall sooner exist 
 
 without a shadow than virtue without envy. 
 (Oxford Drawings, Part ii. No. 6.) 
 
 Pleasure and Pain are represented as twins, as though 
 they were joined together, for there is never the one 
 without the other; and they turn their backs because 
 they are contrary to each other. 
 
 If you shall choose pleasure know that he has behind him 
 one who will deal out to you tribulation and repentance. 
 
ALLEGORIES 63 
 
 This is pleasure together with pain, and they are 
 represented as twins because the one is never separated 
 from the other. They are made with their backs turned 
 to each other because they are contrary the one to the 
 other. They are made growing out of the same trunk 
 because they have one and the same foundation, for the 
 foundation of pleasure is labour with pain, and the 
 foundations of pain are vain’ and lascivious pleasures. 
 And accordingly it is represented here with a reed in the 
 right hand which is useless and without strength [?] and 
 the wounds made with it are poisoned. In Tuscany 
 reeds are put to support beds to signify that here occur 
 vain dreams, and here is consumed a great part of 
 life: here is squandered much useful time, namely that 
 of the morning when the mind 1s composed and re- 
 freshed, and the body therefore is fitted to resume new 
 labours. ‘There also are taken many vain pleasures both 
 with the mind imagining impossible things, and with 
 the body taking those pleasures which are often the 
 cause of the failing of life; so that for this the reed is 
 held as representing such foundations. 
 
 (Oxford Drawings, Part ii. No. 7.) 
 
 Intellectual passion drives out sensuality. 
 (C. A. 358 0. a) 
 
 Whoso curbs not lustful desires puts himself on a 
 level with the beasts. 
 
 You can have neither a greater nor a less dominion 
 than that over yourself, 
 
 1 MS, ‘vanj,’ not ‘ varj.” 
 
64 THE SCOURGE OF FOLLY 
 
 It is easier to resist at the beginning than at the end. 
 (H 119 [24 0.] r.) 
 If you kept your body in accordance with virtue 
 your desires would not be of this world. 
 (B30) 
 Nothing is so much to be feared as a bad reputation. 
 This bad reputation is caused by vices. 
 (H 40 r.) 
 You grow in reputation like bread in the hands of 
 children. (B 3 v.) 
 
 Methinks that coarse men of bad habits and little 
 power of reason do not deserve so fine an instrument or 
 so great a variety of mechanism as those endowed with 
 ideas and with great reasoning power, but merely a sack 
 wherein their food is received, and from whence it passes 
 away. For in truth one can only reckon-them as a 
 passage for food ; since it does not seem to me that they 
 have anything in common with the human race except 
 speech and shape, and in all else a are far below 
 
 the level of the beasts. 
 (Windsor M88. Del? Anat. Fogli B 21 v.) 
 
 And this man excels in folly who continually stints 
 himself in order that he may not want, and his life slips 
 away while he is still looking forward to enjoying the 
 wealth which by extreme toil he has aequired. ’ 
 
 (S. K. M. iii. 17 2.) 
 
 O speculators about perpetual motion, how many vain 
 chimeras have you created in the like quest? Go and 
 
 take your place with the seekers after gold. 
 (S. K. M. it. 92 v.) 
 
AVARICE—THE HEALTH OF THE BODY 65 
 
 O misery of man! To how many things do you 
 
 make yourself a slave for money ? 
 (Windsor MSS. R 688.) 
 
 To the ambitious, whom neither the boon of life nor 
 the beauty of the world suffice to content, it comes as 
 penance that life with them is squandered, and that they 
 possess neither the benefits nor the beauty of the world. 
 
 (C. A. gt v. a.) 
 
 Strive to preserve your health ; and in this you will the 
 better succeed in proportion as you keep clear of the 
 physicians, for their drugs are a kind of alchemy con- 
 cerning which there are no fewer books than there 
 are medicines. (Windsor MSS. Dell Anat. Fogli A 2 r.) 
 
 Every man desires to acquire wealth in order that he 
 may give it to the doctors, the destroyers of life ; there- 
 fore they ought to be rich. (F 96 v.) 
 
 Wine is good, but water is preferable at table. 
 (I 122 [74] v.) 
 
 Here nature seems in many or for many animals to 
 have been rather a cruel step-mother than a mother, and 
 
 for some not a step-mother but a compassionate mother. 
 (S. K. M. iii. 20 v.) 
 
 We support life by the death of others. 
 
 In dead matter there remains insensible life, which on 
 becoming re-united to the stomachs of the living re- 
 sumes the life of the senses and of the intellect. 
 
 | (H 89 [41] e.) 
 
 Man and the animals are merely a passage and channel 
 | E 
 
66 OF GOVERNANCE 
 
 for food, a tomb for other animals, a haven for the dead, 
 giving life by the death of others, a coffer full of 
 corruption. (C. A. 76 9. a.) 
 
 Man has great power of speech, but the greater part 
 thereof is empty and deceitful. The animals have little, 
 but that little is useful and true*; and better is a small 
 and certain thing than a great falsehood. (F 96 2.) 
 
 Lust is the cause of generation. 
 Appetite is the stay of life. 
 Fear or timidity is the prolongation of life. 
 
 Deceit is the preservation of the instrument. 
 (H- 32:29) 
 Let the street be as wide as the universal height of the 
 houses. (B 367.) 
 
 When besieged by ambitious tyrants, I find a means 
 of offence and defence in order to preserve the chief gift 
 of nature, which is liberty; and first I would speak of 
 the position of the walls, and then of how the various 
 
 peoples can maintain their good and just lords. 
 (MS. 2037, Bib. Nat. 10 r.) 
 
 Small rooms or dwellings set the mind in the right 
 path, large ones cause it to go astray. 
 (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 16 r.) 
 
 If you cause your ship to stop, and place the head of 
 a long tube in the water, and place the other extremity 
 to your ear you will hear ships at a great distance 
 from you. 
 
 1 ie. ‘vero’ (the reading adopted by Dr, Richter). MS. has ¢ verso.” 
 
OF CERTAIN INVENTIONS 67 
 
 You can also do the same by placing the head of the 
 tube upon the ground, and you will then hear any one 
 passing at a distance from you. (B6r.) 
 
 A WAY OF SAVING ONESELF IN A TEMPEST 
 OR SHIPWRECK AT SEA 
 
 It is necessary to have a coat made of leather with 
 a double hem over the breast of the width of a finger, 
 and double also from the girdle to the knee, and let the 
 leather of which it is made be quite air-tight. And 
 when you are obliged to jump into the sea, blow out the 
 lappets of the coat through the hems of the breast, and 
 then jump into the sea. And let yourself be carried by 
 the waves, if there is no shore near at hand and you do 
 not know the sea. And always keep in your mouth the 
 end of the tube through which the air passes into the 
 garment ; and if once or twice it should become necessary 
 for you to take a breath when the foam prevents you, 
 draw it through the mouth of the tube from the air 
 within the coat. (B81 wv.) 
 
 Words which fail to satisfy the ear of the listener always 
 either fatigue or weary him; and you may often see a 
 sign of this when such listeners are frequently yawning. 
 Consequently when addressing men whose good opinion 
 you desire, either cut short your speech when you see 
 these evident signs of impatience, or else change the 
 subject ; for if you take any other course, then in place 
 of the approbation you desire you will win dislike and 
 ill-will. . 
 
 And if you would see in what a man takes pleasure 
 
68 OF NECROMANCY 
 
 without hearing him speak, talk to him and change the 
 subject of your discourse several times, and when it 
 comes about that you see him stand fixedly without 
 either yawning or knitting his brows or making any 
 other movement, then be sure that the subject of which 
 you are speaking is the one in which he takes pleasure. 
 (G 497) 
 
 But of all human discourses that must be considered 
 as most foolish which affirms a belief in necromancy, 
 which is the sister of alchemy, the producer of simple 
 and natural things, but is so much the more worthy of 
 blame than alchemy, because it never gives birth to any- 
 thing whatever except to things like itself, that is to say 
 lies ; and this is not the case with alchemy, which works 
 by the simple products of nature, but whose function 
 cannot be exercised by nature herself, because there are 
 in her no organic instruments with which she might be 
 able to do the work which man performs with his hands, 
 by the use of which he has made glass, etc. But this 
 necromancy, an ensign, or flying banner, blown by the 
 wind, is the guide of the foolish multitude, which is 
 a continual witness by its clamour to the limitless effects 
 of such an art. And they have filled whole books in 
 affirming that enchantments and spirits can work and 
 speak ‘without tongues, and can speak without any 
 organic instrument,—without which speech is impossible, 
 —and can carry the heaviest weights, and bring tempests 
 and rain, and that men can be changed into cats and 
 wolves and other beasts, although those first become 
 beasts who affirm such things. 
 
 ; 
 , 
 ‘ 
 d 
 ; 
 ; 
 4 
 
 a Oe a ee ee ee 
 
OF NECROMANCY 69 
 
 And undoubtedly if this necromnancy did exist, as is 
 believed by shallow minds, there is nothing on the earth 
 that would have so much power either to harm or benefit 
 man : if it were true, that is, that by such an art one had 
 the power to disturb the tranquil clearness of the air, and 
 transform it into the hue of night, to create coruscations 
 and tempests with dreadful thunder-claps and lightning- 
 flashes rushing through the darkness, and with impetuous 
 storms to overthrow high buildings and uproot forests, and 
 with these to encounter armies and break and overthrow 
 them, and—more important even than this—to make the 
 devastating tempests, and thereby rob the husbandmen 
 of the reward of their labours. For what method of 
 warfare can there be which can inflict such damage upon 
 the enemy as the exercise of the power to deprive him of 
 his crops? What naval combat could there be which 
 should compare with that which he would wage who has 
 command of the winds and can create ruinous tempests that 
 would submerge every fleet whatsoever? In truth, who- 
 ever has control of such irresistible forces will be lord 
 over all nations, and no human skill will be able to resist 
 his destructive power. The buried treasures, the jewels 
 that lie in the body of the earth will all become manifest 
 tohim ; no lock, no fortress, however impregnable, will 
 avail to save any one against the will of such a necro- 
 mancer. He will cause himself to be carried thr:ugh the 
 air from: East to West, and through all the uttermost 
 parts of the universe. But why do I thus go on adding 
 instance to instance? What is there which could not 
 be brought to pass by a mechanician such as this? 
 Almost nothing, except the escaping from death. 
 
70 THE DEFINITION OF A SPIRIT 
 
 We have therefore ascertained in part the mischief 
 and the usefulness that belong to such an art if it is 
 real; and if it is real why has it not remained among 
 men who desire so much, not having regard to any 
 deity, merely because there are an infinite number of 
 persons who in order to gratify one of their appetites 
 would destroy God and the whole universe ? 
 
 If then it has not remained among men, although so 
 necessary to them, it never existed, and never can exist, 
 as follows from the definition of a spirit, which is 
 invisible and incorporeal, for within the elements there 
 are no incorporeal things, because where there is not body 
 there is a vacuum, and the vacuum does not exist 
 within the elements, because it would be instantly filled 
 
 up by the element. 
 (Windsor MSS. Del? Anat. Fogh B 31 v.) 
 
 OF SPIRITS 
 
 We have just now stated on the other side of this 
 page, that the definition of a spirit is a power united to 
 a body, because of itself it can neither offer resistance 
 nor take any kind of local movement ; and if you say 
 that it does in itself offer resistance, this cannot be so 
 within the elements, because if the spirit is a quantity 
 without a body, this quantity is what is called a vacuum, 
 and the vacuum does not exist in nature, and granting 
 that one were formed, it would be instantly filled up by 
 the falling in of that element within which such a vacuum 
 had been created. So by the definition of weight, which 
 says that gravity is a fortuitous power created by one 
 element being drawn or impelled towards another, it 
 
OF WHETHER A SPIRIT HAS BODY 71 
 
 follows that any element, though without weight when 
 in the same element, acquires weight in the element 
 above it, which is lighter than itself; so one sees that 
 one part of the water has neither gravity nor levity in 
 the rest of the water, but if you draw it up into the air 
 then it will acquire weight, and if you draw the air 
 under the water then the water on finding itself above 
 this air acquires weight, which weight it cannot support 
 of itself, and consequently its descent is inevitable, and 
 therefore it falls into the water, at the very spot which 
 had been left a vacuum by this water. The same thing 
 would happen to a spirit if it were among the elements, for 
 it would continually create a vacuum in whatever element 
 it chanced to find itself ; and for this reason it would be 
 necessarily in perpetual flight towards the sky until it 
 had passed out of these elements. 
 
 WHETHER THE SPIRIT HAS A BODY AMONG THE 
 ELEMENTS 
 
 We have proved how the spirit cannot of itself exist 
 among the elements without a body, nor yet move of 
 itself by voluntary movement except to rise upwards. 
 We now proceed to say that such a spirit in taking 
 a body of air must of necessity spread itself through 
 this air ; for if it remained united, it would be separated 
 from it and would fall, and so create a vacuum, as is said 
 above ; and therefore it is necessary, if it is to be able to 
 remain suspended in the air, that it should spread itself 
 over a certain quantity of air ; and if it becomes mingled 
 with the air two difficulties ensue, namely, that it rarefies 
 
72 OF WHETHER A SPIRIT CAN MOVE 
 
 that quantity of air within which it is mingled, and con- 
 sequently this air, becoming rarefied, flies upwards of its 
 own accord, and will not remain among the air that is 
 heavier than itself ; and moreover, that as this aethereal 
 essence is spread out, the parts of it become separated, 
 and its nature becomes modified, and it thereby loses 
 something of its former power. To these there is also 
 added a third difficulty, and that is that this body of air 
 assumed by the spirit is exposed to the penetrating force 
 of the winds, which are incessantly severing and tearing 
 in pieces the connected portions of the air, spinning 
 them round and whirling them amid the other air; and 
 therefore the spirit which was spread through this air 
 would be dismembered or rent in pieces and broken, 
 together with the rending in pieces of the air within 
 which it was spread. 
 
 WHETHER THE SPIRIT HAVING ASSUMED A BODY OF 
 
 AIR CAN MOVE OF ITSELF OR NO 
 
 It is impossible that the spirit diffused within a quantity 
 of air can have power to move this air; and this is 
 shown by the former section in which it is stated that 
 the spirit rarefies that quantity of air within which it has 
 entered. This air consequently will rise up above the 
 other air, and this will be a movement made by the air 
 through its own levity, and not through the voluntary 
 movement of the spirit; and if this air meets the wind, 
 by the third part of this section, this air wil] be moved 
 by the wind whd not by the spirit which is diffused. 
 
 within it. 
 
OF WHETHER A SPIRIT HAS VOICE 73 
 
 WHETHER THE SPIRIT CAN SPEAK OR NO 
 
 Wishing to prove whether or no the spirit can speak, 
 it is necessary first to define what voice is, and how it is 
 produced, and we may define it as follows :—the voice is 
 movement of air in friction against a compact body, or of 
 the compact body in friction against the air, which is the 
 same thing ; and this friction of compact with tenuous 
 substance condenses the latter, and so makes it capable of 
 resisting ; moreover, the tenuous substance, when in 
 swift motion, and a similar substance moving slowly, 
 condense each other at their contact, and make a noise 
 or tremendous uproar ; and the sound or murmur caused 
 by one tenuous substance moving through another at a 
 moderate pace [is] like a great flame which creates noises 
 within the air ; and the loudest uproar made by one tenuous 
 substance with another is when the one swiftly moving 
 penetrates the other which is unmoveable, as for instance 
 the flame of fire issuing forth from the cannon .and 
 striking against the air, and also the flame issuing from 
 the cloud, which strikes the air and so produces thunder- 
 bolts. 
 
 We may say therefore, that the spirit cannot produce 
 a voice without movement of air, and there is no air 
 within it, and it cannot expel air from itself if it has it not, 
 and if it wishes to move that within which it is diffused, 
 it becomes necessary that the spirit should multiply itself, 
 and this it cannot do unless it has quantity. And by the 
 fourth part it is said that no tenuous body can move 
 unless it has a fixed spot from whence to take its motion, 
 and especially in the case of an element moving in its 
 
74 OF THE SENSES 
 
 own element, which does not move of itself, except 
 by uniform evaporation at the centre of the thing 
 evaporated, as happens with a sponge squeezed in the 
 hand, which is held under water, since the water flows 
 away from it in every direction with equal movement 
 through the openings that come between the fingers of 
 the hand within which it is squeezed. 
 
 Of whether the spirit has articulate voice,—and whether 
 the spirit can be heard,—and what hearing is, and seeing ; 
 —and how the wave of the voice passes through the air,— 
 and how the images of objects pass to the eye.— 
 
 (Windsor MSS. Dell’? Anat. Fogl B 31 r. and 30 v.) 
 
 HOW THE FIVE SENSES ARE THE MINISTERS OF 
 
 THE SOUL 
 
 The soul apparently resides in the seat of the judg- 
 ment, and the judgment apparently resides in the place 
 where all the senses meet, which is called the common 
 sense ; and it is not all of it in the whole body as many 
 have believed, but it is all in this part; for if it were 
 all in the whole, and all in every part, it would not have 
 been necessary for the instruments of the senses to come 
 together in concourse to one particular spot; rather 
 would it have sufficed for the eye to register its function 
 of perception on its surface, and not to transmit the 
 images of the things seen to the sense by way of the 
 optic nerves; because the soul—for the reason already 
 given—would comprehend them upon the surface of 
 the eye. 
 
 Similarly, with the sense of hearing, it would be 
 
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 STUDIES OF THE DELTOID MUSCLE OF THE SHOULDER 
 IN VARIOUS ASPECTS 
 
 Face p.75 
 
OF THE SENSES 75 
 
 sufficient merely for the voice to resound in the arched 
 recesses of the rock-like bone, which is within the ear, 
 without there being another passage from this bone to 
 the common sense, whereby the said mouth might address 
 itself to the common*judgment. 
 
 The sense of smell also is seen to be forced of neces- 
 sity to have recourse to this same judgment. 
 
 The touch passes through the perforated tendons and 
 is transmitted to this sense; these tendons proceed to 
 spread out with infinite ramifications into the skin which 
 encloses the body’s members and the bowels. The per- 
 forating tendons carry impulse and sensation to the 
 subject limbs; these tendons passing between the 
 muscles and the sinews dictate to these their movement, 
 and these obey, and in the act of obeying they contract, 
 for the reason that the swelling reduces their length 
 and draws with it the nerves, which are interwoven amid 
 the particles of the limbs, and being spread throughout 
 the extremities of the fingers, they transmit to the sense 
 the impression of what they touch. 
 
 The nerves with their muscles serve the tendons, even 
 as soldiers serve their leaders, and the tendons serve 
 the common sense as the leaders their captain, and this 
 common sense serves the soul as the captain serves his 
 lord. 
 
 So therefore, the articulation of the bones obeys the 
 nerve, and the nerve the muscle, and the muscle the 
 tendon, and the tendon the common sense, and the 
 common sense is the seat of the soul, and the memory is 
 its monitor, and its faculty of receiving impressions 
 serves as its standard of reference. 
 
76 OF THE ORIGIN OF THE SOUL 
 
 How the sense waits on the soul, and not the soul on 
 the sense, and how where the sense that should minister 
 to the soul is lacking, the soul in such a life lacks con- 
 ception of the function of this sense as is seen in the 
 case of a mute or one born blind. 
 
 (Windsor MSS. Delf Anat. Fog B21.) 
 
 Although human subtlety makes a variety of inven- 
 tions answering by different means to the same end, it 
 will never devise an invention more beautiful, more 
 simple, or more direct than does nature, because in her 
 inventions nothing is lacking, and nothing is superfluous ; 
 and she needs no countervailing weights when she 
 creates limbs fitted for movement in the bodies of the 
 animals, but puts within them the soul of the body 
 which forms them, that is the soul of the mother which 
 first constructs within the womb the shape of the man, 
 and in due time awakens the soul that is to be its inhabi- 
 tant. For this at first remained asleep, in the guardian- 
 ship of the soul of the mother, who nourishes and gives 
 it life through the umbilical vein, with all its spiritual 
 members, and so it will continue for such time as the 
 said umbilical cord is joined to the placenta-and the 
 cotylidons by which the child is attached to the mother. 
 And this 1s the reason why any wish or intense desire pr 
 fright experienced by the mother, or any other mental 
 suffering, is felt more powerfully by the child than by the 
 mother, for there are many cases in which the child loses 
 its life from it. 
 
 This discourse does not properly helong here, but is 
 necessary in treating of the structure of animated bodies ; 
 
OF THE RENEWAL OF THE BODY 77 
 
 and the rest of the definition of the soul I'leave to the 
 wisdom of the friars, those fathers of the people who by 
 inspiration know all mysteries. I speak not against the 
 sacred books, for they are supreme truth. 
 
 (Windsor MSS. Etudes Anatomiques B [ Rouveyre] 8 v.) 
 
 HOW THE BODY OF THE ANIMAL CONTINUALLY DIES 
 AND IS RENEWED 
 
 The body of anything whatsoever that receives nourish- 
 “ment continually dies and is continually renewed. For 
 the nourishment cannot enter except in those places 
 where the preceding nourishment is exhausted, and if 
 it is exhausted it no longer has life. Unless therefore 
 you supply nourishment equivalent to that which has 
 departed, the life fails in its vigour ; and if you deprive 
 it of this nourishment, the life is completely destroyed. 
 But if you supply it with just so much as is destroyed 
 day by day, then it renews its life just as much as it is 
 consumed ; like the light of this candle formed by the 
 nourishment given to it by the fat of this candle, which 
 light is also continually renewed by swiftest succour from 
 beneath, in proportion as the upper part is consumed and 
 dies, and in dying becomes changed from radiant light to 
 murky smoke. And this death extends for so long as 
 the smoke continues ; and the period of duration of the 
 smoke is the same as that of what feeds it, and in an 
 instant the whole light dies and is entirely regenerated 
 by the movement of that which nourishes it ; and its life 
 receives from it also its ebb and flow, as the flicker of its 
 point serves to show us. The same process also comes 
 
78 OF THE RENEWAL OF THE BODY 
 
 to pass in the bodies of the animals by means of the 
 beating of the heart, whereby there is produced a wave 
 of blood in all the veins, and these are continually either 
 enlarging or contracting, because the expansion occurs 
 when they receive the excessive quantity of blood, and 
 the contraction is due to the departure of the excess of 
 blood they have received ; and this the beating of the 
 pulse teaches us, when we touch the aforesaid veins with 
 the fingers in any part whatsoever of the living body. 
 But to return to our purpose, I say that the flesh of 
 the animals is made anew by the blood which is continu- 
 ally produced by that which nourishes them, and that 
 this flesh is destroyed and returns by the mesaraic 
 arteries and passes into the intestines, where it putrifies 
 in a foul and fetid death, as they show us in their 
 deposits and steam like the smoke and fire which were 
 given as a comparison. 
 
 | (Windsor M88. Dell’ Anat. Fogli B 28 r.) 
 
 And this old man, a few hours before his death, told 
 me that he had lived a hundred years, and that he did 
 not feel any bodily ailment other than weakness, and thus 
 while sitting upon a bed in the hospital of Santa Maria 
 Nuova at Florence, without any movement or sign of 
 anything amiss, he passed away from this life. 
 
 And I made an autopsy in order to ascertain the cause 
 of so peaceful a death, and found that it proceeded from 
 weakness through failure of blood and of the artery that 
 feeds the heart and the other lower members, which I 
 found to be very parched and shrunk and withered ; and 
 the result of this autopsy I wrote down very carefully 
 
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 Sih cons jad ajelh ae ar 
 TAN pertain TINNY % &. woe fore “q 
 oe Aya) odd any cs 
 
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 ester ncon one 
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 STUDIES IN THE ANATOMY OF THE NECK AND OF THE 
 BONES OF THE FOOT 
 
 Face p. 78 
 
OF SENILE DECAY 49 
 
 and with great ease, for the body was devoid of either fat 
 or moisture, and these form the chief hindrance to the 
 knowledge of its parts. 
 
 The other autopsy was on a child of two years, and 
 here I found everything the contrary to what it was in 
 the case of the old man. 
 
 The old who enjoy good health die through lack of 
 sustenance. nd this is brought about by the passage to 
 the mesaraic veins becoming continually restricted by 
 the thickening of the skin of these veins ; and the pro- 
 cess continues until it affects the capillary veins, which 
 are the first to close up altogether ; and from this it 
 comes to pass that the old dread the cold more than 
 the young, and that those who are very old have their 
 skin the colour of wood or of dried chestnut, because 
 this skin is almost completely deprived of sustenance. 
 
 And this network of veins acts in man as in oranges, 
 in which the peel becomes thicker and the pulp diminishes 
 the more they become old. And if you say that as the 
 blood becomes thicker it ceases to flow through the 
 veins, this is not true, for the blood in the veins does 
 not thicken because it continually dies and is renewed. 
 
 (Windsor MSS. Del? Anat. Fogh B 10 v.) 
 
 THE NATURE OF THE VEINS 
 
 The origin of the sea is the contrary to that of the 
 blood, for the sea receives within itself all the rivers, 
 which are entirely caused by the aqueous .vapours that 
 have ascended up into the air; while the sea of the blood 
 ‘ts the source of all the veins. 
 
80 OF THE TONGUE 
 
 OF THE NUMBER OF THE VEINS 
 
 The vein is one whole, which is divided into as many 
 main branches as there are principal places which it has to 
 nourish, and these branches are subdivided in an infinite 
 number. (Windsor MSS. Del? Anat. Fogh A 41.) 
 
 OF THE MUSCLES WHICH MOVE THE TONGUE 
 
 No member needs so great a number of muscles as 
 the tongue,—twenty-four of these being already known 
 apart from the others which I have discovered ; and of 
 all the members which are moved by voluntary action 
 this exceeds all the rest in the number of its movements. 
 
 And if you shall say that this is rather the function of 
 the eye, which receives all the infinite varieties of form 
 and colour of the objects set before it, and of the smell 
 with its infinite mixture of odours, and of the ear with 
 its sounds, we may reply that the tongue also perceives 
 an infinite number of flavours both simple and com- 
 pounded ; but this is not to our purpose, for our intention 
 is to treat only of the particular movement of each 
 member. 
 
 Consider carefully how by the movement of the tongue, 
 with the help of the lips and teeth, the pronunciation of 
 all the names of things is known to us; and how, by 
 means of this instrument, the simple and compound 
 words of a language arrive at our ears; and how these, 
 if there were a name for all the effects of nature, would 
 approach infinity in number, together with all the count- 
 less things which are in action and in the power of 
 nature ; and these would not be expressed in one language 
 
OF LANGUAGE , 81 
 
 only, but in a great number of languages, and these also 
 would tend to infinite variety, because they vary con- 
 tinually from century to century, and in one country and 
 another, through the intermingling of the peoples, who 
 by wars or other mischances are continually becoming 
 mixed with each other; and these same languages are 
 liable to pass into oblivion, and they are mortal like all 
 the rest of created things; and if we grant that our world 
 is everlasting we shall then say that these languages have 
 been, and still must be, of infinite variety, through the in- 
 finite number of centuries which constitute infinite time. 
 
 Nor is this true in the case of any other sense; for 
 these are concerned only with such things as nature is 
 continually producing, and she does not change the 
 ordinary kinds of the things which she creates in the 
 same way that from time to time the things are changed 
 which have been created by man; and indeed man is 
 nature’s chiefest instrument, because nature is concerned 
 only with the production of elementary things, but man 
 from these elementary things produces an infinite number 
 of compounds, although he has no power to create any 
 natural thing except another like himself, that is his 
 children. And of this the old alchemists will serve as 
 my witnesses, who have never either by chance or de- 
 liberate experiment succeeded in creating the smallest 
 thing which can be created by nature; and indeed this 
 generation deserves unmeasured praises for the service- 
 ableness of the things which they have invented for the 
 use of men, and would deserve them even more if they 
 had not been the inventors of noxious things like poisons 
 
 and other similar things which destroy the life or the 
 F 
 
Bak) OF ALCHEMY 
 
 intellect ; but they are not exempt from blame in that by 
 much study and experiment they are seeking to create, 
 not, indeed, the meanest of nature’s products, but the 
 most excellent, namely gold, which is begotten of the sun 
 inasmuch as it has more resemblance to it than to any- 
 thing else that is, and no created thing is more enduring 
 than this gold. It is immune from destruction by fire, 
 which has power over all the rest of created things, 
 reducing them to ashes, glass, or smoke. If, however, 
 insensate avarice should drive you into such error, why 
 do you not go to the mines where nature produces this 
 gold, and there become her disciple? She will completely 
 cure you of your folly by showing you that nothing 
 which you employ in your furnace will be numbered 
 among the things which she employs in order to produce 
 this gold. For there is there no quicksilver, no sulphur 
 of any kind, no fire nor other heat than that of nature 
 giving life to our world; and she will show you the 
 veins of the gold spreading through the stone,—the 
 blue lapis lazuli, whose colour is unaffected by the power 
 of the fire. And consider carefully this ramification of 
 the gold, and you will see that the extremities of it are 
 continually expanding in slow movement, transmuting 
 into gold whatever they come in contact with ; and note 
 that therein is a living organism which it 1s not within 
 your power to produce. 
 
 (Windsor MSS. Del? Anat. Fogh B 28 v.) 
 
 And thou, man, who by these my labours dost look 
 upon the marvellous works of nature, if thou judgest it 
 to be an atrocious act to destroy the same, reflect that 
 
OF THE MYSTERY OF LIFE 83 
 
 it is an infinitely atrocious act to take away the life of 
 man. For thou shouldst be mindful that though what 
 is thus compounded seem to thee of marvellous subtlety, 
 it is as nothing compared with the soul that dwells within 
 this structure; and in truth, whatever this may be, 
 it is a divine thing which suffers it thus to dwell within 
 its handiwork at its good pleasure, and wills not that 
 thy rage or malice should destroy such a life, since in 
 truth he who values it not does not deserve it. 
 
 For we part from the body with extreme reluctance, 
 and I indeed believe that its grief and lamentation are 
 not without cause. 
 
 (Windsor MSS. Del? Anat. Fogli A 2r.) 
 
 I wish to work miracles ;—I may have less than other 
 men who are more tranquil, or than those who aim at 
 growing rich inaday. I may live for a long time in dire 
 poverty as happens, and to all eternity will happen, to 
 the alchemists, the would-be creators of gold and silver, 
 and to the mechanicians who attempt to make dead 
 water stir itself into life in perpetual motion, and to 
 those -consummate fools, the necromancer and the 
 enchanter. 
 
 And you who say that it is better to look at an 
 anatomical demonstration than to see these drawings, 
 you would be right, if it were possible to observe all the 
 details shown in these drawings in a single figure, in 
 which, with all your ability, you will not see nor acquire 
 a knowledge of more than some few veins, while, in 
 order to obtain an exact and complete knowledge of 
 these, I have dissected more than ten human bodies, 
 
84 OF ANATOMICAL STUDY 
 
 destroying all the various members, and removing even 
 the very smallest particles of the flesh which surrounded 
 these veins without causing any effusion of blood other 
 than the imperceptible bleeding of the capillary veins. 
 And, as one single body did not suffice for, so long a 
 time, it was necessary to proceed by stages with so many 
 bodies as would render my knowledge complete; and 
 this I repeated twice over in order to discover the 
 differences. 
 
 But though possessed of an interest in the subject you 
 may perhaps be deterred by natural repugnance, or, if 
 this does not restrain you, then perhaps by the fear of 
 passing the night-hours in the company of these corpses, 
 quartered and flayed and horrible to behold ; and. if this 
 does not deter you, then perhaps you may lack the 
 skill in drawing essential for such representation ; and 
 even if you possess this skill it may not be combined 
 with a knowledge of perspective, while, if it is so 
 combined, you may not be versed in the methods of 
 geometrical demonstration or the method of estimating 
 the forces and strength of muscles, or perhaps you may 
 be found wanting in patience so that you will not be 
 diligent. Concerning which things, whether or no they 
 have all been found in me, the hundred and twenty books 
 which I have composed will give their verdict ‘yes * or 
 ‘no’; in these I have not been hindered either by avarice 
 or negligence but only by want of time. Farewell. | 
 
 (Winasor MSS. Etudes Anatomiques Recueil B (Rouveyre) 7 v.) 
 
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 STUDIES OF A SKULL IN MEDIAN SECTION 
 
 Face p. 84 
 
BOOK II 
 
 NATURE 
 
 PRAISE OF THE SUN 
 
 Ir you look at the stars without their rays,—as may be 
 done by looking at them through a small hole made with 
 the extreme point of a fine needle and placed so as 
 almost to touch the eye,—you will perceive these stars 
 to be so small that nothing appears less; and in truth 
 the great distance gives them a natural diminution, 
 although there are many there which are a great many 
 times larger than the star which is our earth together 
 with the water. Think, then, what this star of ours 
 would seem like at so great a distance, and then consider 
 how many stars might be set longitudinally and lati- 
 tudinally amid these stars which are scattered throughout 
 this dark expanse. I can never do other than blame 
 those many ancients who said that the sun was no larger 
 than it appears,—among these being Epicurus; and I 
 believe that such a theory is borrowed from the idea of 
 a light set in our atmosphere equidistant from the centre 
 [of the earth]; whoever sees it never sees it lessened in 
 size at any distance, and the reasuns of its size and 
 potency I shall reserve for the Fourth Book. 
 
 But I marvel greatly that Socrates should have spoken 
 85 
 
8h OF THE SUN 
 
 with disparagement of that body, and that he should 
 have said that it resembled a burning stone, and it is 
 certain that whoever opposes him in such an error can 
 scarcely do wrong. I-could wish that I had such power 
 of language as should avail me to censure those who 
 would fain extol the worship of men above that of the 
 sun, for I do not perceive in the whole universe a body 
 greater and more powerful than this, and its light 
 illumines all the celestial bodies which are distributed 
 throughout the universe. 
 
 All vital principle descends from it, since the heat 
 there is in living creatures proceeds from this vital 
 principle, and there is no other heat or. light in the 
 universe, as I shall show in the Fourth Book, and, indeed, 
 those who have wished to worship men as gods, such as 
 Jupiter, Saturn, Mars, and the like, have made a very 
 grave error seeing that even if a man were as large as our 
 earth he would seem like one of the least of the stars, 
 which appears but a speck in the universe ; and seeing 
 also that these men are mortal and subject to decay and 
 corruption in their tombs. 3 
 
 The Spera, and Marullo, and many others praise the 
 Sun. (F 5 r. and 4 v.) 
 
 All the flowers which see the sun mature their seed, 
 and not the others, that is those which see only the | 
 reflection of the sun. (G 377.) 
 
 That the atmosphere attracts to itself like a magnet 
 all the images of the things which surround it, and not 
 only their bodily shapes but also their nature, is clearly 
 
OF THE SUN 87 
 
 to be seen in the case of the sun, which is a hot and 
 luminous body. All the atmosphere which is exposed 
 to its influence 1s charged in all its parts with light and 
 heat, and it all receives within itself the shape of that 
 which is the source of this heat and radiance and does 
 the same also in each minutest part. The north star is 
 shown to do the same by the needle of the compass ; 
 and each of the planets does the like without itself 
 undergoing any diminution. Among the products of 
 the earth the same is found to happen with musk and 
 other scents. (C. A. 138 v. 4.) 
 
 EXPLANATION OF WHY THE SUN SEEMS LARGER 
 IN THE WEST 
 
 Certain mathematicians contend that the sun grows 
 larger when it is setting, because the eye sees it continually _ 
 through atmosphere of greater density, alleging that 
 objects seen through mist and in water seem larger. 
 To those I reply that this is not the case, for the things 
 seen through the mist are similar in colour to those 
 which are at a distance, but as they do not undergo 
 the same process of diminution, they appear greater 
 in size. 
 
 In the same way nothing seems larger in smooth 
 water, and this you may prove by tracing upon a board 
 which is placed under water. 
 
 The real reason why the sun grows larger is that 
 
 every luminous body appears larger, as it is further away. 
 (4 64 v.) 
 
88 OF THE MOON 
 
 WHAT THE MOON IS 
 
 The moon is not luminous in itself, but it is well 
 fitted to take the characteristics of light after the manner 
 of the mirror or of water orany other shining body ; and 
 it grows larger in the East and in the West like the sun 
 and the other planets, and the reason of this is that every 
 luminous body grows larger as it becomes more remote. 
 
 It may be readily understood that every planet and star 
 is further away from us when in the West than when it is 
 overhead, by about three thousand five hundred [miles] 
 according to the proof given at the side [of the page];’ 
 and if you see the sun or moon reflected in water which is 
 near at hand it will seem to be the same size in the water 
 as it does in the sky, while if you go away to the distance 
 of a mile it will seem a hundred times as large. And if 
 you see it reflected in the sea at the moment of its setting 
 the image of the sun will seem to you to be more than 
 ten miles long, because it will cover in this reflection 
 more than ten miles of sea. And if you were where the 
 moon is, it would appear to you that the sun was reflected 
 over as much of the sea as it illumines in its daily course, 
 and the land would appear amid this water like the dark 
 spots that are upon the moon, which when looked at from 
 the earth presents to mankind the same appearance that 
 our earth would present to men dwelling in the moon. 
 
 . OF THE NATURE OF THE MOON 
 When all that we can see of the moon 1s illuminated 
 it gives us its maximum of light, and then from the 
 
 1 Here the margin of the MS. contains a diagram representing the earth 
 with the sun shown in two positions. 
 
OF THE MOON 89 
 
 reflection of the rays of the sun which strike upon it and 
 rebound towards us its ocean throws off less moisture to 
 
 us, and the less light it gives the more it is harmful. 
 (A 64 r.) 
 
 THE SPOTS ON THE MOON 
 
 Some have said that vapours are given off from the 
 moon after the manner of clouds, and are interposed 
 between the moon and our eyes. If this were the case 
 these spots would never be fixed either as to position or 
 shape ; and when the moon was seen from different points, 
 even although these spots did not alter their position, 
 they would change their shape, as does a thing which is 
 seen on different sides. (F 84 r.) 
 
 OF THE SPOTS ON THE MOON 
 
 Others have said that the moon is made up of parts, 
 some more, some less transparent, as though one part were 
 after the manner of alabaster, and another like crystal or 
 glass. It would then follow that when the rays of the 
 sun struck the less transparent part the light would stay 
 on the surface, and consequently the denser part would 
 be illuminated, and the transparent part would reveal 
 the shadows of its obscure depths. Thus then they 
 define the nature of the mdon, and this view has found 
 favour with many philosophers, and especially with 
 Aristotle ; but nevertheless it is false, since in the 
 different phases which the moon and the sun frequently 
 present to our eyes we should be seeing these spots vary, 
 and at one time they would appear dark and at another 
 
 light. They would be dark when the sun is in the West 
 
go OF THE MOON 
 
 and the moon in the centre of the sky, because the 
 transparent hollows would then be in shadow as far as the 
 tops of their edges, since the sun could not cast its rays 
 into the mouths of these same hollows; and they would 
 appear bright at full moon, when the moon in the East 
 faces the sun in the West; for then the sun would 
 illumine even the lowest depths of these transparent 
 parts, and, in consequence, as no shadow was created, the 
 moon would not at such times reveal to us the above- 
 mentioned spots, and so it would be, sometimes more 
 sometimes less, according to the change in the position 
 of the sun to the moon, and of the moon to our eyes, as 
 I have said above. (F 84 2.) 
 
 It has also been said that the spots on the moon are 
 created in the moon itself, by the fact of it being of 
 varying thinness or density. If this were so, then in the 
 eclipses of the moon the solar rays could pierce through 
 some part where it is thin, as has been stated, but since 
 we do not see this result the aforesaid theory is false. 
 
 - Others say that the surface of the moon is smooth 
 and polished, and that, like a mirror, it receives within 
 itself the reflection of the earth. This theory is false, 
 since the earth, when not covered by the water, presents 
 different shapes from different points of view; so when 
 the moon is in the East it would reflect other spots than 
 when it is overhead or in the West, whereas the spots 
 upon the moon, as seen at full moon, never change during 
 the course which it makes in our hemisphere. A second 
 reason is that an object reflected in a convex surface fills 
 only a small part of the mirror, as is proved in perspec- 
 
OF THE MOON gt 
 
 tive. The third reason is that when the moon is full it 
 only faces half the orb of the illuminated earth, in which 
 the ocean and the other waters shine brightly, while the 
 land forms spots amid this brightness; and consequently 
 the half of our earth would be seen girded round about 
 by the radiance of the sea, which takes its light from the 
 sun, and in the moon this reflection would be the least 
 part of that moon. The fourth reason is that one 
 radiant body cannot be reflected in another, and con- 
 sequently as the sea derives its radiance from the sun, 
 as does also the moon, it could not show the reflected 
 image of the earth, unless one also saw reflected there 
 separately the orb of the sun and of each of the stars 
 which look down upon it. (F 85 7.) 
 
 HOW IF THE MOON IS POLISHED AND SPHERICAL THE 
 IMAGE OF THE SUN UPON IT IS POWERFULLY 
 LUMINOUS, AND IS ONLY ON A SMALL PART OF 
 ITS SURFACE 
 
 You will see the proof of this by taking a ball of 
 burnished gold and placing it in the darkness and setting 
 a light at some distance from it. Although this illumi- 
 nates about half the ball, the eye only sees it reflected on 
 a small part of its surface, and all the rest of the surface 
 reflects the darkness which surrounds it. For this reason 
 it is only there that the image of the light is apparent, 
 and all the rest remains invisible because the eye is at a 
 distance from the ball. The same thing would happen 
 with the surface of the moon if it were polished, glittering 
 and solid, as are bodies which have a reflecting surface. 
 
 Show how if you were upon the moon or upon a star 
 
g2 . OF THE MOON 
 
 our earth would appear to you to perform the same 
 function for the sun as now the moon does. And show 
 how the reflection of the sun in the sea cannot itself 
 appear a sun as it does in a flat mirror. (F 93 r.) 
 
 OF THE CIRCLES OF THE MOON 
 
 I find that those circles which at night seem to 
 surround the moon, varying in circumference and in their 
 degree of redness, are caused by the different degrees of 
 thickness of the vapours which are situated at different 
 altitudes between the moon and our eyes. And the 
 circle that is larger and less red is in the first part lower 
 than the said vapours; the second, being less, is higher 
 and appears redder, because it is seen through two sets 
 of vapours; and so the higher they are the smaller and 
 the redder will they appear, for between the eye and 
 them there will be more layers of vapours, and this goes 
 to prove that where there appears greater redness, there 
 
 there is a greater quantity of vapours. 
 (C. 4. 349 v. ¢.) 
 
 Why the thunder lasts for a longer time than that 
 which causes it ;—and why, immediately on its creation, 
 the lightning becomes visible to the eye, while the 
 thunder requires time to travel, after the manner of a: 
 wave, and makes the loudest noise when it meets with 
 most resistance. (K 110 [30] 2.) 
 
 THE ORDER OF THE FIRST BOOK ON WATER 
 
 Define first of all what is height and depth, also how 
 the elements are situated one within the other. Then 
 
 i 
 : 
 . 
 
OF WATER 93 
 
 what is solid weight and liquid weight ; but first of all 
 what weight and lightness consist of in themselves. 
 Then describe why water moves, and why its motion 
 ceases ; then why it becomes slower or more rapid, and 
 in addition to this how it continually descends when in 
 contact with air that is lower than itself; and how the 
 water rises in the air through the heat of the sun and 
 then falls back in rain. Further why the water springs 
 from the summits of the mountains, and whether any 
 spring of water higher than the ocean can pour forth 
 water higher than the surface of this ocean; and how all 
 the water that returns to the ocean is higher than the 
 sphere of the water: and how the water of the equi- 
 noctial seas is higher than the northern waters, and is 
 higher beneath the body of the sun than in any other 
 part of the circle of the equator ; for when the experi- 
 ment is made under the heat of a burning brand, the 
 water boils as the effect of the brand, and the water 
 around the centre of where it boils descends in a circular 
 wave. And how the waters of the north are lower than 
 the other seas, and more so as they become colder, until 
 they are changed into ice. (E 12 7.) 
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE TREATISE ON WATER 
 
 Man has been called by the ancients a lesser world, 
 and indeed the term is rightly applied, seeing that if 
 man is compounded of earth, water, air and fire, this 
 body of the earth is the same; and as man has within 
 himself bones as a stay and framework for the flesh, so 
 the world has the rocks which are the supports of the 
 
94 OF THE EARTH’S STRUCTURE 
 
 earth ; as man has within him a pool of blood wherein 
 the lungs as he breathes expand and contract, so the 
 body of the earth has its ocean, which also rises and falls 
 every six hours with the breathing of the world; as 
 from the said pool of blood proceed the veins which 
 spread out their branches throughout the human body, 
 in just the same manner the ocean fills the body of the 
 earth with an infinite number of veins of water. In this 
 body of the earth there is lacking, however, the sinews, 
 and these are absent because sinews are created for the 
 purpose of movement, and as the world is perpetually 
 stable within itself no movement ever takes place there, 
 and in the absence of any movement the sinews are 
 not necessary; but in all other things man and the 
 world show a great resemblance. (4 55 0.) 
 
 OF THE HEAT THAT IS IN THE WORLD 
 
 Where there is life there is heat, and where there is 
 vital heat there is movement of vapour. This is proved 
 because one sees that the heat of the element of fire 
 always draws to itself the damp vapours, the thick mists 
 and dense clouds which are given off by the seas and 
 other lakes and rivers and marshy valleys. And drawing 
 these little by little up to th- cold region, there the first 
 part halts, because the warm and moist cannot exist with 
 cold and dryness; and this first part having halted receives 
 the other parts, and so all the parts joining together one 
 to another form thick and dark clouds. And these are 
 often swept away and carried by the winds from one 
 region to another, until at last their density gives them 
 
OF THE EARTH’S STRUCTURE 95 
 
 such weight that they fallin thick rain; but if the heat 
 of the sun is added to the power of the element of fire, 
 the clouds are drawn up higher, and come to more intense 
 cold, and there become frozen, and so produce hailstorms. 
 
 So the same heat which holds up so great a weight of 
 water as is seen to fall in rain from the clouds, sucks it 
 up from below from the roots of the mountains and 
 draws it up and confines it among the mountain summits, 
 and there the water finds crevices, and so continuing it 
 issues forth and creates rivers. (4 55 0.) 
 
 OF THE SEA WHICH GIRDLES THE EARTH 
 
 I perceive that the surface of the earth was from of 
 old entirely filled up and covered over in its level plains 
 by the salt waters, and that the mountains, the bones of 
 the earth, with their wide bases, penetrated and towered 
 up amid the air, covered over and clad with much high- 
 lying soil. Subsequently, the incessant rains have caused 
 the rivers to increase, and by repeated washing, have 
 stripped bare part of the lofty summits of these moun- 
 tains, leaving the site of the earth, so that the rock finds 
 itself exposed to the air, and the earth has departed from 
 these places. And the earth from off the slopes and the 
 lofty summits of the mountains has already descended 
 to their bases, and has raised the floors of the seas which 
 encircle these bases, and caused the plain to be uncovered, 
 and in some parts has driven away the seas from there 
 over % great distance. (C. A. 126 ©, 2.) 
 
6 OF WATER 
 
 OF THE FOAM OF WATER 
 
 Water which falls from a height into other water im- 
 prisons within itself a certain quantity of air, and this 
 through the force of the blow becomes submerged with 
 it, and then with swift movement rises up again and 
 arrives at the surface which it has quitted, clothed with a 
 fine veil of moisture, spherical in form, and proceeds by 
 circles away from the spot where it first struck. Or the 
 water which falls down upon other water runs away from 
 the spot where it strikes, in various different branches, 
 bifurcating and mingling and interlacing one with 
 another ; and some, being hollow, are dashed back upon 
 the surface of the water; and so great is the force of 
 the weight, and of the shock caused by this water, that 
 through its extreme swiftness the air is unable to escape 
 into its own element, but on the contrary is submerged 
 in the manner that I have stated above. (4 sgr.) 
 
 OF THE OPINION HELD BY SOME THAT THE WATER OF 
 SOME SEAS IS HIGHER THAN THE HIGHEST SUMMITS 
 OF THE MOUNTAINS AND THAT THE WATER WAS 
 DRIVEN UP TO THESE SUMMITS 
 
 Water will not move from one spot to another unless 
 to seek a lower level, and in the natural course of its 
 current it will never be able to return to an elevation 
 equal to that of the spot where it first issued forth from 
 the mountains and came into the light. That part of 
 the sea which by an error of imagination you state to 
 have been so high as to have flowed over the summits of 
 
OF THE WATER OF THE SEA 97 
 
 the high mountains for so many centuries, would be con- 
 sumed and poured out in the water that has issued from 
 these same mountains. You can well imagine that 
 during all the time that the Tigris and the Euphrates 
 have flowed from the summits of the Armenian moun- 
 tains," one may suppose the whole of the water of the 
 ocean to have passed a great many times through their 
 mouths. Or do you not believe that the Nile has dis- 
 charged more water into the sea than is at present con- 
 tained in all the watery element? Surely this is the 
 case! If then this water had fallen away from this body 
 of the earth, the whole mechanism would long since have 
 been without water. So, therefore, one may conclude 
 that the water passes from the rivers to the sea, and from 
 the sea to the rivers, ever making the self-same round, 
 and that all the sea and the rivers have passed through 
 
 the mouth of the Nile an infinite number of times. 
 (4 56 r. and v.) 
 
 WHAT CAUSES THE EDDIES OF WATER 
 
 All the movements of the wind resemble those of the 
 water. 
 
 Universally all things desire to maintain themselves in 
 their natural state. So moving water strives to main- 
 tain the course pursuant to the power which occasions it, 
 and if it finds an obstacle in its path, it completes the 
 span of the course it has commenced by a circular and 
 revolving movement. 
 
 So when water pours out of a narrow channel and 
 descends with fury into the slow-moving currents of 
 
 1 Text is not ‘de monti eruini’ as in M. Ravaisson-Mollien’s transcript, 
 but ‘de moti ermjnj ° (de monti ermini) as given by Dr. Richter. 
 
 G 
 
98 OF THE EDDIES OF WATER 
 
 mighty seas, since in the greater bulk there is greater 
 power, and greater power offers resistance to the lesser, 
 in this case, the water descending upon the sea beats down 
 upon its slow-moving mass, and this cannot make a place 
 for it with sufficient speed, because it is held up by the 
 rest of the water ; and so the water that descends, not 
 being willing to slacken its course, turns round after it 
 has struck, and continues its first movement in circling 
 eddies, and so fulfils its desire down in the depth ; for in 
 these same eddies it finds nothing more than its own 
 movement, which is attended by a succession of circles, 
 one within the other ; and by thus revolving in circles, 
 its course becomes longer and more continuous, because 
 it meets with no obstacle except itself; and this motion 
 eats away and consumes the banks, and they fall head- 
 long in ruin... . (A 60 r.) 
 
 OF WAVES 
 
 The wave is the recoil of the stroke, and it will be 
 greater or less in proportion as the stroke itself is greater 
 or less. A wave is never found alone, but is mingled 
 with as many other waves as there are uneven places in the 
 object where the said wave is produced. At one and the 
 same time there will be moving over the greatest wave 
 of a sea innumerable other waves proceeding in different 
 directions. If you throw a stone into a sea with various 
 shores, all the waves which strike against these shores 
 are thrown back towards where the stone has struck, and 
 on meeting others advancing, they never interrupt each 
 other’s course. Waves of equal volume, velocity, and 
 power, when they encounter each other in opposing 
 
OF WAVES 99 
 
 motion, recoil at equal angles, the one from the stroke 
 of the other. That wave will be of greater elevation 
 which is created by the greater stroke, and the same is 
 true of the converse. The wave produced in small tracts 
 of water will go and return many times from the spot 
 which has been struck. The wave goes and returns so 
 many more times in proportion as the sea which produces 
 it contains a less quantity of water, and so conversely. 
 Only on the high sea do the waves advance without ever 
 turning in recoil. In lesser tracts of water the same stroke 
 gives birth to many motions of advance and recoil. 
 The greatest wave is covered with innumerable other 
 waves moving in different directions ; and these have a 
 greater or less depth as they are occasioned by a greater 
 or less power. The greatest wave is covered with various 
 waves, which move in as many different directions as 
 there were different places from which they separated 
 themselves. The same wave produced within a small tract 
 of water has a greater number of other waves proceeding 
 over itself, in proportion to the greater strength of its 
 stroke and recoil from the opposite shores. Greater is 
 the motion of the wave than that of the water of which it 
 is composed. Many waves turned in different directions 
 can be created between the surface and the bottom of the 
 same body of water at the same time. The eddying move- 
 ments can accompany the direct movements of each wave. 
 All the impressions caused by things striking upon 
 the water can penetrate one another without being 
 destroyed. One wave never penetrates another; but 
 
 they only recoil from the spot where they strike. 
 (C. A. 84% a) 
 
100 OF THE EARTH’S INCREASE 
 
 INSTANCES AND DEDUCTIONS AS TO THE EARTH'S 
 INCREASE 
 
 Take a vase, fill it fuil of pure earth, and set it up on 
 a roof. You will see how immediately the green herbs 
 will begin to shoot up, and how these, when fully grown, 
 will cast their various seeds; and after the children have 
 thus fallen at the feet of their parents, you will see the 
 herbs, having cast their seeds, becoming withered and 
 falling back again to the earth, and within a short time 
 becoming changed into the earth’s substance and giving 
 it increase ; after this you will see the seeds springing up 
 and passing through the same course, and so you will 
 always see the successive generations after completing 
 their natural course, by their death and corruption giving 
 increase to the earth. And if you let ten years elapse 
 and then measure the increase in the soil, you will be 
 able to discover how much the earth in general has in- 
 creased, and then by multiplying you will see how great 
 has been the increase of the earth in the world during a 
 thousand years. Some may say that this instance of the 
 vase which I have mentioned does not justify the deduc- 
 tion based upon it, because one sees in the case of these 
 vases, that for the prize of the flowers that are looked 
 for, a part of the soil is frequently taken away, and its 
 place is filled up with new rich soil ; and I reply to them 
 that as the soil which is added there is a blend of rich fat 
 substances and broken bits of all sorts of things, it cannot 
 be said to be pure earth, and this mass of substances, 
 decaying, and so losing in part their shape, becomes 
 changed into a rich ooze, which feeds the roots of the 
 
OF THE SALT OF THE SEA 101 
 
 plants above them ; and this is the reason why it may 
 appear to you that the earth is lessened; but if you 
 allow the plants that grow in it to die, and their seeds to 
 spring up, then in time you will behold its increase. 
 
 For do you not perceive how, among the high moun- 
 tains, the walls of ancient and ruined cities are being 
 covered over and concealed by the earth’s increase ? 
 
 Nay, have you not seen how, on the rocky summits 
 of the mountains, the live stone itself has in course of 
 time swallowed up by its growth some column which it 
 supported, and stripping it bare as with shears, and 
 grasping it tightly, has left the impress of its fluted form 
 in the living rock ? NOTE ATED 
 
 The water wears away the mountains and fills up the 
 valleys, and if it had the power, it would reduce the 
 earth to a perfect sphere. (C. A. 185 v. ¢.) 
 
 If a drop of water falls into the sea when it is calm, 
 it must of necessity be that the whole surface of the sea 
 is raised imperceptibly, seeing that water cannot be com- 
 pressed within itself, like air. (C, A. 20 r. a.) 
 
 WHY WATER IS SALT 
 
 Pliny says in his second book, in the hundred and 
 third chapter, that the water of the sea is salt because 
 the heat of the sun scorches and dries up the moisture 
 and sucks it up and thereby greatly increases the salt 
 savour of the sea. 
 
 But this cannot be admitted because, if the saltness 
 
102 OF THE SAL’ OF THE SEA 
 
 of the sea were caused by the heat of the sun, there is no 
 doubt that the lakes and pools and marshes would be more 
 salt in proportion as their waters have less movement and 
 depth, but on the contrary experience shows us that the 
 waters of these marshes are entirely free from saltness. 
 It is also stated by Pliny, in the same chapter, that this 
 saltness might arise because, after the subtraction of 
 every sweet and tenuous portion such as the heat readily 
 draws to itself, the more bitter and coarser portion will 
 be left behind, and in consequence the water on the 
 surface is sweeter than that at the bottom. But this is 
 contradicted by the reasons given above, whence it follows 
 that the same thing would happen with marshes and 
 other tracts of water which become dried up by the heat. 
 It has also been said that the saltness of the sea is the 
 sweat of the earth, but to this we may reply that then 
 all the springs of water which penetrate through the 
 earth would be salt. The conclusion, therefore, is that 
 the saltness of the sea is due to the numerous springs of 
 water, which, -in penetrating the earth, find the salt 
 mines, and dissolving parts of these carry them away with 
 them to the ocean and to the other seas, from whence 
 they are never lifted” by the clouds which produce the 
 rivers. So the sea would be more salt in our times than 
 it has ever been at any time previously ; and if it were 
 argued by the adversary that in an infinite course of 
 time the sea would either become dried up or congealed 
 into salt, to this I reply that the salt is restored to the 
 earth by the setting free of the earth which is raised up 
 together with the salt it has acquired, and the rivers restore 
 it to the earth over which they flow. (G48 .) 
 
 ae ir i te 
 
 SS a SE eS ee J Ji. 2 
 
OF THE ACTION OF WATER 103 
 
 If a stone is thrown into still water it will form circles 
 equidistant from their centre ; but if into a moving river 
 the circles formed will lengthen out and be almost oval 
 in shape, and will travel on together with their centre 
 away from the spot where it was first made, following 
 the course of the [stream]. . . (I 87 [39] r-) 
 
 Water will leap up far higher than it has fallen, through 
 the violent movement caused by the air which finds itself 
 shut in within the bubbles of the water, and which after- 
 wards rises and floats like bells upon the surface of the 
 water. Returning to the place where it strikes, the 
 water is again submerged by the blow, so that the air 
 finds itself hemmed in between the water which drives 
 it down and that which encounters it, and being pressed 
 upon with such fury and violence, suddenly bursts through 
 the water which serves it as a covering, and, like a 
 thunderbolt emerging from the clouds, so this air emerges 
 from the water, carrying with it a part of the water’ 
 which previously formed its covering. (I 69 [21] #.) 
 
 THE DESTRUCTION OF MARSHES WILL BE BROU_ iT ABOUT 
 WHEN TURBID RIVERS FLOW INTO THEM 
 
 This is proved by the.fact that where the river flows 
 swiftly it washes away the soil, and where it delays there 
 it leaves its deposit, and both for this reason, and because 
 water never travels so slowly in rivers as it does in the 
 marshes of the valleys, the movement of the waters there 
 is imperceptible. But in these marshes the river has to 
 enter through a low, narrow, winding channel, and it ha’ 
 
 1 MS, has ‘aria,’ air. 
 
104. OF THE EARTH’S SURFACE 
 
 to flow out over a large area of but little depth; and 
 this is necessary because the water flowing in the river 
 is thicker and more laden with earth in the lower than 
 in the upper part; and the sluggish water of the marshes 
 also is the same, but the variation between the lightness 
 and heaviness of the upper and lower waters of the 
 marshes far exceeds that in the currents of rivers, in 
 which the lightness of the upper part differs but little 
 from the heaviness of the part below. 
 
 So the conclusion is that the marsh will be destroyed 
 because it is receiving turbid water below, while above, 
 on the opposite side of the same marsh, only clear water 
 is flowing out ; and, consequently, the bed of the marsh 
 will of necessity be raised by means of the soil which is 
 being continually discharged into it. (E 5r.) 
 
 OF HOW THE SEA CHANGES THE WEIGHT OF 
 THE EARTH 
 
 The shells of oysters and other similar creatures which 
 are born in the mud of the sea, testify to us of the 
 change in the earth round the centre of our elements. 
 This is proved as follows :—the mighty rivers always 
 flow turbid because of the earth stirred up in them 
 through the friction of their waters upon their bed and 
 against the banks; and this process of destruction 
 uncovers the tops of the ridges formed by the layers of 
 these shells, which are embedded in the mud of the sea 
 where they were born when the salt waters covered 
 them. And these same ridges were from time to time 
 covered over by varying thicknesses of mud which had 
 
OF THE FLOOD 105 
 
 been brought down to the sea by the rivers in floods of 
 varying magnitude ; and in this way these shells remained 
 walled up and dead .beneath this mud, which became 
 raised to such a height that the bed of the sea emerged 
 into the air. And now these beds are of so great a 
 height that they have become hills or lofty mountains, 
 and the rivers, which wear away the sides of these 
 mountains, lay bare the strata of the shells, and. so the 
 light surface of the earth is continually raised, and 
 the antipodes draw nearer to the centre of the earth, 
 and the ancient beds of the sea become chains of 
 mountains. (E 4 2.) 
 
 DOUBT 
 
 Here a doubt arises, and that is as to whether the 
 Flood which came in the time of Noah was universal 
 or not, and this would seem not to have been the case for 
 the reasons which will now be given. We have it in the 
 Bible that the said Flood was caused by forty days and 
 forty nights of continuous and universal rain, and that 
 this rain rose ten cubits above the highest mountain in 
 the world. But, consequently, if it had been the case 
 that the rain was universal, it would have formed in 
 itself a covering around our globe which is spherical 
 in shape ; and a sphere has every part of its circum- 
 ference equally distant from its centre, and therefore, on 
 the sphere of water finding itself in the aforesaid con- 
 dition, it becomes impossible for the water on its surface 
 to move, since water does not move of its own accord 
 unless to descend. How then did the waters of so great 
 a Flood depart if it is proved that they had no power 
 
106 OF MARINE SHELLS 
 
 of motion? If it departed, how did it move, unless it 
 went upwards? At this point natural causes fail us, and 
 therefore in order to resolve such a doubt we must needs 
 either call in a miracle to our aid or else say that all this 
 water was evaporated by the heat of the sun. 
 
 (CAVES es) 
 
 OF THE FLOOD AND OF MARINE SHELLS 
 
 If you should say that the shells which are visible at the 
 present time within the borders of Italy, far away from 
 the sea and at great heights, are due to the Flood having 
 deposited them there, I reply that, granting this Flood to 
 have risen seven cubits above the highest mountain, as 
 he has written who measured it, these shells which always 
 inhabit near the shores of the sea ought to be found 
 lying on the mountain sides, and not at so short a 
 distance above their bases, and all at the same level, 
 layer upon layer. 
 
 Should you say that the nature of these shells is to 
 keep near the edge of the sea, and that as the sea rose 
 in height the shells left their former place and followed 
 the rising waters up to their highest level :—to this 
 I reply that the cockle is a creature incapable of more 
 rapid movement than the Siail out of water, or is even 
 somewhat slower, since it does not swim, but makes 
 a furrow in the sand, and supporting itself by means of 
 the sides of this furrow it will travel between three and 
 four braccia in a day ; and therefore with such a motion 
 as this it could not have travelled from the Adriatic sea 
 as far as Monferrato in Lombardy, a distance of two 
 
OF MARINE SHELLS 107 
 
 hundred and fifty miles in forty days,—as he has said 
 who kept a record of that time. 
 
 And if you say that the waves carried them there— 
 they could not move by reason of their weight except 
 upon their base. And if you do not grant me this, at 
 any rate allow that they must have remained on the tops 
 of the highest mountains, and in the lakes which are shut. 
 in among the mountains, such as the lake of Lario or 
 Como, and Lake Maggiore, and that of Fiesole and of 
 Perugia and others. 
 
 If you should say that the shells were empty and dead 
 when carried by the waves, I reply that where the dead 
 ones went the living were not far distant, and in these 
 mountains are found all living ones, for they are known 
 by the shells being in pairs and by their being in a row 
 without any dead, and a little higher up is the place 
 where all the dead with their shells separated have been 
 cast up by the waves, near where the rivers plunged in 
 mighty chasm into the sea. So it was with the Arno, 
 which fell from the Gonfolina near to Monte Lupo and 
 there left gravel deposits, which deposits are still to be 
 seen welded together and forming one concrete mass of 
 various kinds of stones from different localities and of 
 varying colour and hardness. And a little further on, 
 where the river turns. towards Castel Fiorentino, the 
 hardening of the sand has formed tufa stone ; and below 
 this it has deposited the mud in which the shells lived ; 
 and the mud has risen by degrees as the floods of the 
 Arno poured their turbid waters into this sea. So from 
 time to time the floor of the sea was raised, and this 
 caused these shells to be in layers. 
 
108 OF MARINE SHELLS 
 
 This is seen in the cutting of Colle Gonzoli, which has 
 been made precipitous by the action of the Arno wearing 
 away its base, in which cutting the aforesaid layers of 
 shells are plainly to be seen in the bluish clay, and there 
 
 are also to be found other things from the sea. 
 (Leic. 8 6[R 987]) 
 
 As for those who say that the shells are found over 
 a wide area and produced at a distance from the sea by 
 the nature of the locality and the disposition of the 
 heavens which moves and influences the place to such a 
 creation of animal life,—to them it may be answered 
 that, granted such an influence over these animals, they 
 could not happen all in one line, save in the case of those 
 of the same species and age ; and not one old and another 
 young, one with an outer covering and another without, 
 one broken and another whole, nor one filled with sea 
 sand, and the fragments great and small of others inside 
 the whole shells which stand gaping open; nor the claws 
 of crabs without the rest of their bodies; nor with the 
 shells of other species fastened on to them, like animals 
 crawling over them and leaving the mark of their track 
 on the outside where it has eaten its way like a worm in 
 wood ; nor would there be found among them bones 
 and teeth of fish which some call arrows, others serpents’ 
 tongues ; nor would so many parts of different animals 
 be found joined together, unless they had been thrown 
 up there upon the borders of the sea. 
 
 And the Flood could not have carried them there, 
 because things which are heavier than water do not float 
 high in the water, and the aforesaid things could not be 
 
OF PETRIFIED FISHES 109 
 
 at such heights unless they had been carried there 
 floating on the waves, and that is impossible on account 
 of their weight. 
 Where the valleys have never been covered by the 
 salt waters of the sea, there the shells are never found. 
 (Leic. 9 a[R 988}) 
 Since things are far more ancient than letters, it is 
 not to be wondered at if in our days there exists no 
 record of how the aforesaid seas extended over so many 
 countries ; and if moreover such record ever existed, the 
 wars, the conflagrations, the deluges of the waters, the 
 changes in speech and habits have destroyed every 
 vestige of the past. But sufficient for us is the testimony 
 of things produced in the salt waters and now found 
 again in the high mountains far from the seas. 
 (Leic. 31 a[R 984]) 
 
 OF THE BONES OF FISHES FOUND IN THOSE THAT 
 HAVE BEEN PETRIFIED 
 
 All the creatures that have their bones within their 
 skin, on being covered over by the mud from the in- 
 undations of rivers which have left their accustomed beds, 
 are at once enclosed in a mould by this mud. And so 
 in course of time as the channels of the rivers become 
 lower, these creatures being embedded and shut in within 
 the mud, and the flesh and organs being worn away and 
 only the bones remaining, while even these have lost 
 their natural order of arrangement, they have fallen 
 down into the base of the mould which has been formed 
 by their impress ; and as the mud becomes lifted above 
 the level of the stream, the water runs away so that it 
 
I1O OF SHELLS 
 
 dries and becomes first a sticky paste and then changes 
 into stone, enclosing whatsoever it finds within itself, 
 and itself filling up every cavity; and finding the 
 hollow part of the mould formed by these creatures, it 
 percolates gradually through the tiny crevices in the 
 earth through which the air that is within escapes away, 
 that is laterally, for it cannot escape upwards since there 
 the crevices are filled up by the moisture descending 
 into the cavity, nor can it escape downwards because the 
 moisture which has already fallen has closed up the 
 crevices. There remain the openings at the side, whence 
 this air, condensed and pressed down upon by the 
 moisture which descends, escapes with the same slow rate 
 of progress as that of the moisture which descends there; 
 and this paste as it dries becomes stone which is devoid 
 of weight, and preserves the exact shapes of the creatures 
 which have there made the mould, and encloses their 
 bones within it. (F 79 2.) 
 
 SHELLS AND THE REASON OF THEIR SHAPE. 
 
 The creature that resides within the shell constructs 
 its dwelling with joints and seams and roofing and the 
 other various parts, just as man does in the house in 
 which he dwells; and this creature expands the house 
 and roof gradually in proportion as its body increases 
 and as it is attached to the sides of these shells. Conse- 
 quently the brightness and smoothness which these shells 
 possess on the inner side is somewhat dulled at the point 
 where they are attached to the creature that dwells there, 
 and the hollow of it is roughened, ready to receive the 
 
OF PETRIFACTION lit 
 
 knitting together of the muscles by means of which the 
 creature draws itself in when it wishes to shut itself up 
 within its house. 
 
 When nature is on the point of creating stones, it 
 produces a kind of sticky paste, which, as it dries, forms 
 itself into a solid mass together with whatever it has 
 enclosed there, which, however, it does not change into 
 stone but preserves within itself in the form in which it 
 has found them. This is why leaves are found whole 
 within the rocks which are formed at the bases of the 
 mountains, together with a mixture of different kinds of 
 things, just as they have been left there by the floods from 
 the rivers which have occurred in the autumn seasons; 
 and there the mud caused by the successive Hentonone 
 has covered them over, and then this mud grows into 
 one mass together with the aforesaid paste, and becomes 
 changed into successive layers of stone which correspond 
 with the layers of the mud. (F 80 r.) 
 
 OF CREATURES WHICH HAVE THEIR BONES ON THE 
 OUTSIDE, LIKE COCKLES, SNAILS, OYSTERS, SCOLLOPS, 
 “BOUOLI’ AND THE LIKE, WHICH ARE OF INNUMER- 
 ABLE KINDS 
 
 When the floods of the rivers which were turbid with 
 fine mud deposited this upon the creatures which dwelt 
 beneath the waters near the ocean borders, these creatures 
 became embedded in this mud, and finding themselves 
 entirely covered under a great weight of mud they were 
 forced to perish for lack of a supply of the creatures on 
 which they were accustomed to feed. 
 
112 OF PETRIFACTION 
 
 In course of time the level of the sea became lower, 
 and as the salt water flowed away this mud became 
 changed into stone ; and such of these shells as had lost 
 their inhabitants became filled up in their stead with 
 mud ; and consequently, during the process of change of 
 all the surrounding mud into stone, this mud also which 
 was within the frames of the half-opened shells, since by 
 the opening of the shell it was joined to the rest of the 
 mud, became also itself changed into stone ; and there- 
 fore all the frames of these shells were left between two 
 petrified substances, namely that which surrounded them 
 and that which they enclosed. 
 
 These are still to be found in many places, and almost 
 all the petrified shell fish in the rocks of the mountains 
 still have their natural frame round them, and especially 
 those which were of a sufficient age to be preserved by 
 reason of their hardness, while the younger ones which 
 were already in great part changed into chalk were 
 penetrated by the viscous and petrifying moisture. 
 
 (F 79 1.) 
 OF SHELLS IN MOUNTAINS 
 
 And if you wish to say that the shells are produced 
 by nature in these mountains by means of the influence 
 of the stars, in what way will you show that this influence 
 
 produces in the very same place shells of various sizes 
 and varying in age, and of different kinds? 
 
 SHINGLE 
 
 And how will you explain to me the fact of the shingle — 
 being all stuck together and lying in layers at different 
 
OF PETRIFIED THINGS 113 
 
 altitudes upon the high mountains? For there there is 
 to be found shingle from divers parts carried from 
 various countries to the same spot by the rivers in their 
 course ; and this shingle is nothing but pieces of stone 
 which have lost their sharp edges from having been rolled 
 over and over for a long time, and from the various 
 blows and falls which they have met with during the pas- 
 sage of the waters which have brought them to this spot. 
 
 LEAVES 
 
 And how will you account for the very great number 
 of different kinds of leaves embedded in the high rocks 
 of these mountains, and for the a/iga, the seaweed, which 
 is found lying intermingled with the shells and the sand? 
 And in the same way you will see all kinds of petrified 
 things together with ocean crabs broken in pieces and 
 separated, and mixed with their shells. (F 80 v.) 
 
 WHAT IS FORCE? 
 
 Force I define as an incorporeal agency, an invisible 
 power, which by means of unforeseen external pressure 
 is caused by the movement stored up and diffused within 
 bodies which are withheld and turned aside from their 
 natural uses ; imparting to these an active life of marvel- 
 lous power, it constrains all created things to change of 
 form and position, and hastens furiously to its desired 
 death, changing as it goes according to circumstances. 
 When it is slow its strength is increased, and speed 
 enfeebles it. It is born in violence and dies in liberty ; 
 and the greater it is the more quickly it is consumed. 
 
 It drives away in fury whatever opposes its destruction. 
 H 
 
114 OF FORCE 
 
 It desires to conquer and slay the cause of opposition, 
 and in conquering destroys itself. It waxes more power- 
 ful where it finds the greater obstacle. Everything 
 instinctively flees from death. Everything when under 
 constraint itself constrains other things. Without force 
 nothing moves. The body in which it is born neither 
 grows in weight nor in form. None of the movements 
 that it makes are lasting. It increases by effort and 
 disappears when at rest. The body within which it is 
 confined is deprived of liberty. Often also by its move- 
 ment it generates new force. (4 34 0.) 
 
 OF WHAT FORCE IS 
 
 Force I define as a spiritual power, incorporeal and 
 invisible, which with brief life is produced in those bodies 
 which as the result of accidental violence are brought 
 out of their natural state and condition. 
 
 I have said spiritual because in this force there is an 
 active, incorporeal life ; and I call it invisible because the 
 body in which it is created does not increase either in 
 weight or in size; and of brief duration because it desires 
 perpetually to subdue its cause, and when this is subdued 
 it kills itself. (B 63 r.) 
 
 AGAINST PERPETUAL MOTION 
 
 No inanimate object will move of its own accord ; 
 consequently when in motion it will be moved by unequal 
 power, unequal that is in time and velocity, or unequal in 
 weight ; and when the impulse of the first motive power 
 ceases the second will cease abruptly. (422 0.) 
 
 Every impression is preserved for a time in its sensi- 
 
OF IMPRESSIONS 115 
 
 tive object; and that which was of greater power will 
 be preserved in its object for a longer time, and for a 
 shorter time with the less powerful. In this connection 
 I apply the term sensitive to such object as by any 
 impression is changed from that which was at first an 
 insensible object ;—that is one which, while changing 
 from its first state, preserves within itself no impression 
 of the thing which has moved it. The sensible im- 
 pression is that of a blow received upon a resounding 
 substance, such as bells and such like things, or like the 
 note in the ear, which, indeed, unless it preserved the 
 impression of the notes, could never derive pleasure from 
 hearing a voice alone; for when it passes immediately 
 from the first to the fifth note, the effect is as though 
 one heard these two notes at the same time, and thus 
 perceived the true harmony which the first makes with 
 the fifth ; but if the impression of the first note did not 
 remain in the ear for an appreciable space of time, the 
 fifth, which follows immediately after the first, would 
 seem alone, and one note cannot create any harmony, 
 and consequently any song whatsoever occurring alone _ 
 would seem to be devoid of charm. 
 
 So, too, the radiance of the sun or other luminous 
 body remains in the eye for some time after it has been 
 seen; and the motion of a single firebrand whirled 
 rapidly in a circle causes this circle to seem one con- 
 tinuous and uniform flame. 
 
 The drops of rain water seem continuous threads 
 descending from their clouds ; and so herein one may 
 see how the eye preserves the impressions of the moving 
 things which it sees. 
 
116 OF IMPRESSIONS 
 
 The insensible objects which do not preserve the 
 impressions of the things which are opposite to them 
 are mirrors, and any polished substance which, so soon 
 as ever the thing of which it bears the impression is 
 removed from before it, becomes at once entirely 
 deprived of that impression. We may, therefore, con- 
 clude that it is the action of the mover pressing against 
 the body moved by it which moves this body in the 
 direction in which it moves. 
 
 Amongst the cases of impressions being preserved in 
 various bodies we may also instance the wave, the eddies 
 of the water, the winds in the air, and a knife stuck 
 into a table, which, on being bent in one direction and 
 then released, retains for a long time a quivering move- 
 ment, all its movements being reciprocal one of another, 
 and all may be said to be approaching towards the 
 perpendicular of the surface where the knife is fixed 
 by its point. 
 
 The voice impresses itself through the air without 
 displacement of air, and strikes upon the objects and 
 returns back to its source. 
 
 The concussion of liquid bodies with solid is of a 
 different character to the above-mentioned cases of con- 
 cussion ; and the concussion of liquid with liquid also 
 varies from the foregoing. 
 
 Of the concussion of solid with liquid there is seen an 
 example in the shores of the ocean, which receive the 
 waters full on their rocks and hurl them against the 
 steep crags; and oftentimes it happens that before the 
 course of the wave is half completed, the stones carried 
 by it return to the sea from whence they came; and their 
 
Onoiit «PUPIL OF THE EYE 117 
 
 power of destruction is increased by the might of the 
 
 wave which falls back from the lofty cliffs. 
 (CO As 360 7, 2.) 
 
 Seeing that the images of the objects are all spread 
 throughout all the air which surrounds them, and are all 
 in every point of the same, it must be that the images 
 of our hemisphere enter and pass together with those of 
 all the heavenly bodies through the natural point, in 
 which they merge and become united by mutually pene- 
 trating and intersecting each other, whereby the image 
 of the moon in the east and the image of the sun in 
 the west at this natural point become united and blended 
 together with our hemisphere. 
 ~ O marvellous Necessity, thou with supreme reason 
 constrainest all effects to be the direct result of their 
 causes, and by a supreme and irrevocable law every 
 natural action obeys thee by the shortest possible 
 process ! 
 
 Who would believe that so small a space could contain 
 the images of all the universe? O mighty process! 
 What talent can avail to penetrate a nature such as 
 thine? What tongue will it be that can unfold so great 
 a wonder? Verily, none! This it is that guides the 
 human discourse to the considering of divine things. 
 
 Here the figures, here the colours, here all the images 
 of every part of the universe are contracted to a point. 
 
 O what point is so marvellous ! 
 
 O wonderful, O stupendous Necessity, thou by thy 
 
 law constrainest all effects to issue from their causes in 
 
118 OF THE NATURE OF SIGHT 
 
 the briefest possible way! These are the miracles, .. . 
 forms already lost, mingled together in so small a space, 
 it can recreate and reconstitute by its dilation. 
 
 How it may be that from indistinct causes there may 
 issue effects manifest and immediate, as are the images 
 which have passed through the aforesaid natural point. 
 
 Write in thy Anatomy what proportion there is be- 
 tween the diameters of all the lenses of the eye, and 
 
 the distance from these to the crystalline lens. 
 (C. A, 3465 0. 6.) 
 
 OF THE NATURE OF SIGHT 
 
 I say that sight is exercised by all animals through 
 the medium of light ; and if against this any one should 
 instance the sight of nocturnal animals, I would say that 
 these in exactly the same way are subject to the same 
 law of nature. For, as one may readily understand, the 
 senses, when they receive the images of things, do not 
 send forth from themselves any actual power; but on 
 the contrary the air which is between the object and the 
 sense, serving as a medium, incorporates within itself 
 the images of things, and by its own contact with the 
 sense presents them to it, if the objects either by sound 
 or smell project themselves to the eye or the nose by 
 virtue of their incorporeal powers. Here the light is 
 not necessary, nor is it made use of. The forms of 
 objects do not enter into the air as images unless they 
 are luminous ; this being so, the eye cannot receive the 
 same from that air which does not contain them, but only 
 
OF THE EYE 11g 
 
 touches their surface. If you wish to speak of the many 
 animals which hunt their prey by night, I answer that 
 when that small amount of light sufficient for them to see 
 their way fails them, they avail themselves of their powers 
 of hearing and smell, which are not impeded by the 
 darkness, and in which they are far in advance of man. 
 If you watch a cat in the day-time leaping among a lot 
 of pieces of crockery you will see that these will remain 
 whole ; but if it does the same by night it will break a 
 considerable number. Night birds do not fly unless the 
 moon is shining either full or in part, but their time of 
 feeding is between the hour of sunset and the total dark- 
 ness of the night. aye 
 No substance can be comprehended without light and 
 shade ; light and shade are caused by light. 
 (C. A. 90 r. 4.) 
 
 OF THE EYE 
 
 Since the eye is the window of the soul, the latter 
 is always in fear of being deprived of it, to such an 
 extent that when anything moves in front of it which 
 causes a man sudden fear, he does not use his hands to 
 protect his heart, which supplies life to the head where 
 dwells the lord of the senses, nor his hearing, nor sense 
 of smell or taste ; but immediately the affrighted sense, 
 not contented with shutting the eyes and pressing their 
 lids together with the utmost force, causes him to turn 
 suddenly in the opposite direction; and not as yet 
 feeling secure he covers them with the one hand and 
 stretches out the other to form a screen against the 
 object of his fear. (C. A. 119 9. 4.) 
 
120 OF THE EYE 
 
 The eye, which is used to the darkness, on suddenly 
 beholding the light is hurt and therefore closes quickly, 
 being unable to endure the light. This is due to the 
 fact that the pupil in order to recognise any object in 
 the darkness to which it has grown accustomed, increases 
 in size, employing all its force to transmit to the re- 
 ceptive part the image of things in shadow. And the 
 light, suddenly penetrating, causes too large a part of 
 the pupil which was in darkness to be hurt by the 
 radiance which bursts in upon it, this being the exact 
 opposite of the darkness to which the eye has already 
 grown accustomed and habituated, and which seeks to 
 maintain itself there, and will not quit its hold without 
 inflicting injury upon the eye. 
 
 One might also say that the pain caused to the eye 
 when in shadow by the sudden light arises from the 
 sudden contraction of the pupil, which does not occur 
 except as the result of the sudden contact and friction of 
 the sensitive parts of the eye. If you would see an 
 instance of this, observe and note carefully the size of 
 the pupil when any one is looking at a dark place, and 
 then cause a candle to be brought before it, and make 
 it rapidly approach the eye, and you will see an in- 
 stantaneous contraction of the pupil. (CTS) 
 
 OF BODILY MOVEMENTS 
 
 I say that the note of the echo is cast back to the ear 
 after it has struck, just as the images of objects strike 
 the mirror and are thence reflected to the eye. And in 
 the same way as these images fall from the object to the 
 mirror and from the mirror to the eye at equal angles, so 
 
OE THE. EYE 121 
 
 the note of the echo will strike and rebound within the 
 
 hollow where it has first struck at equal angles to the ear. 
 (C 16 r.) 
 
 If the darkness of the night is a hundred degrees 
 more intense than that of the evening, and the eye of 
 the man doubles the size of its pupil in the darkness, 
 then the darkness is halved to the eye, since its power of 
 vision has doubled the half; there remain, therefore, 
 fifty degrees of intensity of darkness. 
 
 And if in the said darkness the eye of the owl expands 
 its pupil a hundred times, the power of vision increases 
 a hundred fold, so that a hundred degrees of power of 
 vision are acquired ; and since things which are the 
 equal of each other do not exceed each other, the bird 
 sees in the darkness with the pupil increased a hundred- 
 fold just as in the day when the pupil is less by ninety- 
 nine hundredths. 
 
 And if you should say that this creature cannot see 
 light by day and for this reason remains in concealment, 
 the answer to this is that the bird only conceals itself by 
 day in order to escape from the crowd of the birds who 
 are continually flocking round it in great numbers with a 
 loud clamour, and very often they would lose their lives 
 if they did not hide themselves in the grottoes and 
 caverns of the high rocks. 
 
 Of the nocturnal animals only in the lion tribe does 
 the pupil alter its shape as it grows larger or smaller ; 
 for when it is at the limit of its contraction it is long in 
 form, when it is at the middle it is oval, and when it 
 
 reaches its utmost expansion it is circular. 
 | (C. 4,203'F. ¢,) 
 
122 OF THE NATURE OF SIGHT 
 
 I say that the power of vision extends by means of the 
 visual rays as far as the surface of bodies which are not 
 transparent, and that the power possessed by these bodies 
 extends up to the power of vision, and that every similar 
 body fills all the surrounding air with its image. Each 
 body separately and all together do the same, and not 
 only do they fill it with the likeness of their shape, but 
 also with that of their power. 
 
 EXAMPLE 
 
 You see with the sun when it is at the centre of our 
 hemisphere, how there are the images of its form in all 
 the parts where it reveals itself, and you see how in all 
 those same places there are also the images of its radiance, 
 and to these must also be added the image of the power 
 of its heat ; and all these powers proceed from the same 
 source by means of radiant ‘lines which issue from its 
 body and end in the opaque objects without its thereby 
 undergoing any diminution. | 
 
 The north star remains continually with the images of 
 its power spread out, and becoming incorporated not only 
 in thin but in thick bodies, in those transparent and those 
 opaque, but it does not on this account suffer any loss 
 of its shape. 
 
 CONFUTATION 
 
 Those mathematicians, then, who say that the eye has 
 no spiritual power which extends to a distance from 
 itself, since, if it were so, it could not be without great 
 diminution in the use of the power of vision, and that 
 though the eye were as great as the body of the earth 
 
OF PROJECTED POWER 123 
 
 it would of necessity be consumed in beholding the 
 stars; and for this reason they maintain that the eye 
 takes in but does not send forth anything from itself,— 
 
 EXAMPLE 
 
 What will these say of the musk which always keeps 
 a great quantity of the atmosphere charged with its 
 odour, and which, if it be carried a thousand miles, will 
 permeate a thousand miles with that thickness of atmo- 
 sphere without any diminution of itself? 
 
 Or will they say that the sound which the bell makes 
 on its contact with the clapper, which daily of itself 
 fills the whole countryside with its sound, must of 
 necessity consume this bell ? 
 
 Certainly, it seems to me, there are such men as these 
 —and that is all that need be said of them. 
 
 EXAMPLES 
 
 Is not that snake called lamia seen daily by the rustics 
 attracting to itself with fixed gaze, as the magnet attracts 
 iron, the nightingale, which with mournful song hastens 
 to her death? 
 
 It is said also that the wolf has power by its look to 
 cause men to have hoarse voices. 
 
 The basilisk is said to have the power by its glance to 
 deprive of life every living thing. 
 
 The ostrich and the spider are said to hatch their eggs 
 by looking at them. 
 
 Maidens are said to have power in their eyes to attract 
 to themselves the love of men. 
 
 The fish called /inno, which some name after S. Ermo, 
 
124 OF LANDSCAPE AT NOON 
 
 which is found off the coasts of Sardinia,—is it not seen 
 at night by the fishermen shedding light with its eyes 
 over a great quantity of water—as though they were two 
 candles? And all those fishes, which come within the 
 compass of this radiance, immediately come up to the 
 surface of the water and turn over, dead. (C, 4. 270 w. ¢.) 
 
 Landscapes are of a more beautiful azure when in fine 
 weather the sun is at noon than at any other hour of the 
 day, because the atmosphere is free from moisture ; and 
 viewing them under such conditions, you see the trees of 
 a beautiful green at their extremities, and the shadows 
 dark towards the centre ; and in the further distance the 
 atmosphere, which is interposed between you and them, 
 appears more beautiful when beyond it there is some 
 darker substance, and consequently the azure is most 
 beautiful. Objects seen from that side on which the sun 
 is shining will not display their shadows to you. But if 
 you are lower than the sun, you will see what was not 
 seen by the sun, and that will be all in shadow. The 
 leaves of the trees which are between you and the sun 
 are of two principal colours, namely, a most beautiful 
 vivid green, and the reflection of the atmosphere, which 
 illumines whatever is not visible to the sun, and the parts 
 in shadow which only face the earth, and the darkest 
 parts which are surrounded by something other than 
 darkness. The trees by the countryside which are 
 between you and the sun are far more beautiful than 
 those in respect to which you are between the sun and 
 them, and this is the case because those which are in the 
 same direction as the sun show their leaves transparent 
 
ey j 
 (D..YTGG ey 
 
 He Prod Ba oa 
 
 Face p. 125 
 
 tea 
 
 3, fy 
 
 < 
 Ai ag ies 
 ~ 
 seh 
 
 LANDSCAPE WITH CLOUD EFFECT 
 
 4 
 ‘ 
 
 LS eS ee ee” a ee lhl 
 
OF ATMOSPHERIC EFFECTS 125 
 
 towards their extremities, and such as are not transparent, 
 that is at the tips, reflect the light ; and the shadows are 
 dark because they are not covered by anything. 
 
 The trees, when you place yourself between them and 
 the sun, will only display to you their light and natural 
 colour, which is not of itself very conspicuous, and 
 besides this, certain reflected lights, which, owing to their 
 not being against a background that offers a strong 
 contrast to their brightness, are but little in evidence ; 
 and if you are at a lower altitude than these, then those 
 parts of them may be visible, on which the light of the - 
 sun does not fall, and these wil! be dark. 
 
 IN THE WIND 
 
 But if you are on the side from whence the wind is 
 blowing, you will see the trees look much lighter than 
 you would see them from the other sides, and this is due 
 to the fact that the wind turns up the reverse side of the 
 leaves, which is in all cases much paler than their right 
 side ; and especially will they be very light if the wind 
 blows from the quarter where the sun happens to be, and 
 if you have your back turned to it. (B. M. 263, dr. 113 2.) 
 
 I have long had the opportunity of observing many 
 different [atmospheric effects], and once, above Milan, 
 over in the direction of Lake Maggiore, | saw a cloud 
 shaped like a huge mountain made up of banks of fire, 
 because the rays of the sun which was then setting red 
 on the horizon had dyed it with their colour. This great 
 cloud drew to itself all the little clouds which were 
 round about it. And the great cloud remained stationary 
 
36h ace OF SUN-RISE 
 
 and retained the light of the sun on its apex for an hour 
 and a half after sunset, so enormous was its size. And 
 about two hours after night had fallen there arose a 
 stupendous and phenomenal wind storm. : 
 
 . (Leic. 28 a[R 1021.]) 
 
 At the first hour of the day the atmosphere in the south 
 near to the horizon has a dim haze of rose-flushed clouds ; 
 towards the west it grows darker, and towards the east 
 the damp vapour of the horizon shows brighter than the 
 actual horizon itself, and the white of the houses in the east 
 is scarcely to be discerned, while in the south, the further 
 distant they are, the more they assume a dark rose-flushed 
 hue, and even more so in the west ; and with the shadows 
 it is the contrary, for these disappear before the white. 
 
 [. . .] in the east, and the tops of the trees are more 
 visible than their bases, since the atmosphere is thicker 
 lower down, and the structure becomes more indistinct 
 at a height. 
 
 And in the south, the trees may scacely be distin- 
 guished by reason of the vapour which Darkens in the 
 west and grows clear in the east. (C. A. 176 r. 4.) 
 
 OF THE COLOUR OF THE ATMOSPHERE 
 
 I say that the blue which is seen in the atmosphere is 
 not its own colour, but is caused by the heated moisture 
 having evaporated into the most minute imperceptible 
 particles, which the beams of the solar rays attract and 
 cause to seem luminous against the deep intense dark- 
 ness of the region of fire that forms a covering above 
 them. And this may be seen, as I myself saw it, by 
 
 ee a 
 
AN ASCENT OF MONTE ROSA 127 
 
 any one who ascends Monboso (Monte Rosa), a peak of 
 the chain of Alps that divides France from Italy, at 
 whose base spring the four rivers which flow as many 
 different ways and water all Europe, and there is no 
 other mountain that has its base at so great an elevation. 
 This mountain towers to so great a height, as almost to 
 pass above all the clouds ; and snow seldom falls there, 
 but only hail in summer when the clouds are at their 
 greatest height ; and there this hail accumulates, so that 
 were it not for the infrequency * of the clouds thus rising 
 and discharging themselves, which does not happen twice 
 in an age, there would be an enormous mass of ice there, 
 built up by the various layers of the hail; and this I 
 found very thick in the middle of July. And I saw the 
 atmosphere dark overhead, and the rays of the sun 
 striking the mountain had far more brightness than in 
 the plains below, because less thickness of atmosphere lay 
 between the summit of this mountain and the sun. 
 
 As a further example of the colour of the atmosphere, 
 we may take the case of the smoke produced by old dry 
 wood, for as it comes out of the chimneys it seems to be 
 a pronounced blue when seen between the eye and a dark 
 space, but as it rises higher and comes between the eye 
 and the luminous atmosphere, it turns immediately to an 
 ashen grey hue, and this comes to pass because it no 
 longer has darkness beyond it, but in place of this the 
 luminous atmosphere. But if this smoke comes from 
 new green wood, then it will not assume a blue colour, 
 because, as it is not transparent, and is heavily charged 
 
 1 MS. has ‘reta,” which Dr. Richter reads in sense of ‘malanno,’ I have 
 adopted Dr. Solmi’s suggestion ¢ rarita.’ 
 
128 OF THE COLOUR OF THE ATMOSPHERE 
 
 with moisture, it will have the effect of a dense cloud 
 which takes definite lights and shadows as though it were 
 a solid body. | 
 
 The same is true of the atmosphere, which excessive 
 moisture renders white, while little moisture acted upon 
 by heat causes it to be dark and of a dark blue colour ; 
 and this is sufficient as regards the definition of the 
 colour of the atmosphere, although one may also say that 
 if the atmosphere had this transparent blue as its natural 
 colour, it would follow that wherever a greater quantity 
 of atmosphere came between the eye and the fiery 
 element, it would appear of a deeper shade of blue, as is 
 seen with blue glass and with sapphires, which appear 
 darker in proportion as they are thicker. The atmo- 
 sphere, under these conditions, acts in exactly the oppo- 
 site way, since where a greater quantity of it comes 
 between the eye and the sphere of fire, there it is seen 
 much whiter, and this happens towards the horizon ; and 
 in proportion as a lesser amount of atmosphere comes 
 between the eye and the sphere of fire, of so much the 
 deeper blue does it appear, even when we are in the low 
 plains. It follows therefore, from what I say, that the 
 atmosphere acquires its blueness from the particles of 
 moisture which catch the luminous rays of the sun. 
 
 We may also observe the difference between the atoms 
 of dust and those of the smoke seen in the sun’s rays as 
 they pass through the chinks of the walls in dark rooms, 
 that the one seems the colour of ashes, and the other— 
 the thin smoke—seems of a most beautiful blue. We 
 may see also, in the dark shadows of mountains, far from 
 the eye, that the atmosphere which is between the eye 
 
OF THE COLOUR OF SMOKE 129 
 
 and these shadows will appear very blue, and in the por- 
 tion of these mountains which is in light, it will not vary 
 much from its first colour. 
 
 But whoever would see a final proof, should stain a 
 board with various different colours, among which he 
 should include a very strong black, and then over them 
 all he should lay a thin, transparent white, and he will 
 then perceive that the lustre of the white will nowhere 
 display a more beautiful blue than over the black,—but 
 it must be very thin and finely ground. 
 
 (Leic. 4 a [R 300.]) 
 
 When the smoke from dry wood comes between the 
 eye of the observer and some dark space it appears blue. 
 So the atmosphere appears blue because of the darkness 
 which is beyond it ; and if you look towards the horizon 
 of the sky, you will see that the atmosphere is not blue, 
 and this is due to its density; and so at every stage as 
 you raise your eye up from this horizon to the sky 
 which is above you, you will find that the atmosphere 
 will seem darker, and this is because a lesser quantity of 
 air interposes between your eye and this darkness. And 
 if you are on the top of a high mountain the atmosphere 
 will seem darker above you just in proportion as it 
 becomes rarer between you and the said darkness ; and 
 this will be intensified at every successive stage of its 
 height, so that at the last it will remain dark. 
 
 That smoke will appear the bluest which proceeds 
 from the driest wood, and is nearest to the place of its 
 origin, and when it is seen against the darkest background 
 
 with the light of the sun upon it. (F 18 r.) 
 I 
 
130 A SAND-STORM—PLANT LIFE 
 
 How at the mouths of certain valleys the gusts of 
 wind strike down upon the waters and scoop them out in 
 a great hollow, and carry the water up into the air in the 
 shape of a column and of the colour of cloud. And this 
 same thing I once saw taking place on a sand-bank in 
 the Arno, where the sand was hollowed out to a depth 
 of more than a man’s stature, and the gravel of it was 
 removed and whirled a great distance apart, and assumed 
 in the air the form of a mighty campanile, and the 
 summit of it grew like the branches of a great pine, and 
 then it bent on meeting the swift wind which passed over 
 the mountains. (Leic. 22 6[R 996.]) 
 
 Though nature has given sensibility to pain to such 
 living organisms as have the power of movement,—in 
 order thereby to preserve the members which in this 
 movement are liable to diminish and be destroyed,—the 
 living organisms which have no power of movement do 
 not have to encounter opposing objects, and plants con- 
 sequently do not need to have a sensibility to pain, and 
 so it comes about that if you break them they do not 
 feel anguish in their members as do the animals. 
 
 (#7 60 [12] r.) 
 
 Nothing grows in a spot where there is neither 
 sentient, fibrous, or rational life. The feathers grow 
 upon birds and change every year; hairs grow upon 
 animals, and change every year except a part such as the 
 hairs of the beard in lions and cats and creatures like 
 these. The grass grows in the fields, the leaves upon 
 the trees, and every year these are renewed in great 
 
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 MS. WITH TEXT OF ‘PEL SITO Di VENERE’ (FOR THE SHRINE OF 
 VENUS), ALSO ARCHITECTURAL STUDIES AND SKETCH 
 OF NEPTUNE WITH HIS HORSES 
 
 Face p. 131 
 
THE EARTH AN ORGANISM 131 
 
 part. So then we may say that the earth has a spirit of 
 growth ; that its flesh is the soil, its bones are the suc- 
 cessive strata of the rocks which form the mountains, 
 its muscles are the tufa stone, its blood the springs of its 
 waters. The lake of blood that lies about the heart is 
 the ocean ; its breathing is by the increase and decrease 
 of the blood in its pulses, and even so in the earth is 
 the flow and ebb of the sea. And the heat of the spirit 
 of the world is the fire which is spread throughout the 
 earth ; and the dwelling-place of its creative spirit is in 
 the fires, which in divers parts of the earth are breathed 
 out in baths and sulphur mines, and in volcanoes, such 
 as Mount Aetna in Sicily, and many other places. 
 
 (Leic. 34 a [R 1000.]) 
 
 FOR THE SHRINE OF VENUS 
 
 You should make steps on four sides by which to 
 ascend to a plateau formed by nature on the summit of 
 a rock; and let this rock be hollowed out, and supported 
 with pillars in front, and pierced beneath by a great 
 portico, wherein water should be falling into various 
 basins of granite and porphyry and serpentine, within re- 
 cesses shaped like a half-circle; and let the water in 
 these be continually flowing over; and facing this por- 
 tico towards the north, let there be a lake with a small 
 island in the centre, and on this have a thick and shady 
 wood. Let the waters at the top of the pillars be 
 poured down into vases standing at their bases, and 
 from these let there be flowing tiny rivulets. 
 
 From the coast.—Setting out from the coast of 
 
132 THE REALM OF VENUS 
 
 Ciiicia towards the south, you discover the beauty of the 
 island of Cyprus, which . . . 
 
 (Windsor MSS. Notes et dessins sur les Attitudes de 1? Homme 
 [ Rouveyre] 11 7.) 
 
 From the southern sea-board of Cilicia may be seen 
 to the south the beautiful island of Cyprus, which was 
 the realm of the goddess Venus ; and many there have 
 been, who, impelled by her loveliness, have had their 
 ships and rigging broken upon the rocks which lie 
 amidst the seething waves. Here the beauty of some 
 pleasant hill invites the wandering mariners to take their 
 ease among its flowery verdure, where the zephyrs con- 
 tinually come and go, filling with sweet odours the island 
 and the encompassing sea. Alas! How many ships 
 have foundered there! How many vessels have been 
 broken upon these rocks! Here might be seen an 
 innumerable host of ships ; some broken in pieces and 
 half buried in sand ; here is visible the poop of one, and 
 there a prow ; here a keel and there a rib; and it seems 
 like a day of judgment when there shall be a resurrection 
 of dead ships, so great is the mass that covers the whole 
 northern shore. There the northern winds resounding 
 make strange and fearful noises. 
 
 (Windsor M88. Notes et dessins sur les Attitudes de 1 Homme 
 [ Rouveyre] 11 v.) 
 
 When mountains fall headlong over hollow places they 
 shut in the air within their caverns, and this air, in order 
 to escape, breaks through the earth, and so produces 
 earthquakes. | 
 
OF A RIVER IN FLOOD Ss 
 
 My opponent says this cannot be the case, for either 
 the whole mountain which covers the cavern falls or else 
 only the inner part of it ; and if the whole falls, then the 
 compressed air escapes through the opening of the cave 
 which is uncovered, while if only the inner part falls 
 then the compressed air escapes into the vacuum which 
 is left by the falling earth. (C. A, 289 v. 4) 
 
 Amid all the causes of the destruction of human 
 property, it seems to me that rivers on account of their 
 excessive and violent inundations hold the foremost place. 
 And if as against the fury of impetuous rivers any one 
 should wish to uphold fire, such an one would seem to 
 me to be lacking in judgment, for fire remains spent and 
 dead when fuel fails it, but against the irreparable 
 inundation caused by swollen and proud rivers no re- 
 source of human foresight can avail ; for in a succession 
 of raging and seething [waves], gnawing and tearing 
 away the high banks, growing turbid with the earth 
 from the ploughed fields, destroying the houses therein 
 and uprooting the tall trees it carries these as its prey 
 down to the sea which is its lair, bearing along with it 
 men, trees, animals, houses, and lands, sweeping away 
 every dike and every kind of barrier, bearing with it the 
 light things, and devastating and destroying those of 
 weight, creating big landslips out of small fissures, filling 
 up with its floods the low valleys, and rushing headlong 
 with insistent and inexorable mass of waters. 
 
 What a need there is of flight for whoso is near! O 
 how many cities, how many lands, castles, villas and 
 houses has it consumed ! 
 
134 OF BIRDS OF PREY 
 
 How many of the labours of wretched husbandmen 
 have been rendered idle and profitless! How many 
 families has it brought to nought, and overwhelmed ! 
 What shall I say of the herds of cattle which have been 
 drowned and lost ! 
 
 And often issuing forth from its ancient rocky beds it 
 
 washes over the tilled [lands]. . . . 
 (Ci Av 361 Gae) 
 
 Amid the whirling currents of the winds were seen 
 a great number of companies of birds coming from 
 distant lands, and these appeared in such a way as to be 
 almost indistinguishable, for in their wheeling move- 
 ments at one time all the birds of one company were 
 seen edgewise, that is showing as little as possible of 
 their bodies, and at another time showing the whole 
 measure of their breadth, that is full in face; and at 
 the time of their first appearance they took the form 
 of an indistinguishable cloud, and then the second 
 and third bands became by degrees more clearly 
 defined as they approached nearer to the eye of the 
 beholder. 
 
 And the nearest of the above-mentioned bands dropped 
 down low with a slanting movement, and settled upon 
 the dead bodies, which were borne along by the waves of 
 this great deluge, and fed upon them, and so continued 
 until such time as the buoyancy of the inflated dead 
 bodies came to fail, and with slow descent they sank 
 
 gradually down to the bottom of the waters. 
 (C. A. 354 v. 4.) 
 
 Like an eddying wind scouring through a hollow, 
 
OF A ROCKY CAVERN 135 
 
 sandy valley, and with speeding course driving into its 
 vortex everything that opposes its furious onset... . 
 Not otherwise does the northern blast drive back with 
 its hurricane. . . . Nor does the tempestuous sea make 
 so loud a roaring when the northern blast beats it back 
 in foaming waves between Scylla and Charybdis, nor 
 Stromboli nor Mount Etna when the pent-up, sulphurous 
 fires, bursting open and rending asunder the mighty 
 mountain by their force, are hurling through the 
 air rocks and earth mingled together in the issuing 
 belching flames. .. . 
 
 Nor when Etna’s burning caverns vomit forth and 
 give out again the uncontrollable element, and thrust it 
 back to its own region in fury, driving before it what- 
 ever obstacle withstands its impetuous rage. .. . 
 
 And drawn on by my eager desire, anxious to behold 
 the mighty . . . of the varied and strange forms created 
 by the artificer nature, having wandered for some distance 
 among the overhanging rocks, I came to the mouth of 
 a huge cavern before which for a time I remained 
 stupefied, not having been aware of its existence,—my 
 back bent to an arch, my left hand clutching my knee, 
 while with the right I made a shade for my lowered and 
 contracted eyebrows ; bending continually first one way 
 and then another in order to see whether I could discern 
 anything inside, though this was rendered impossible by 
 the intense darkness within ; and after remaining there 
 for a time, suddenly there were awakened within me two 
 emotions,—fear and desire,—fear of the dark, threatening 
 cavern, desire to see whether there might be any marvel- 
 lous thing therein. (B. M. 263, Ar. 155 7.) 
 
136 OF A SEA MONSTER 
 
 O powerful and once living instrument of constructive 
 nature, thy great strength not availing thee, thou must 
 needs abandon thy tranquil life to obey the law which God 
 and time ordained for all procreative nature! To thee 
 availed not the branching, sturdy, dorsal fins wherewith 
 pursuing thy prey thou wert wont to plough thy way, tem- 
 pestuvusly tearing open the briny waves with thy breast. 
 
 O how many times the frightened shoals of dolphins 
 and big tunny fish were seen to flee before thy insensate 
 fury ; and thou, lashing with swift, branching fins and 
 forked tail, didst create in the sea mist and sudden 
 tempest, with loud uproar and foundering of ships ; with 
 mighty wave thon didst heap up the open shores with the 
 frightened and terrified fishes, which thus escaping from 
 thee were left high and dry when the sea abandoned 
 them, and became the plenteous and abundant spoil of 
 
 the neighbouring peoples. 
 
 O time, swift despoiler of created things! How 
 many kings, how many peoples hast thou brought low ! 
 How many changes of state and circumstance have 
 followed since the wondrous form of this fish died here 
 in this hollow, winding recess ? Now destroyed by time 
 patiently thou liest within this narrow space, and with 
 thy bones despoiled and bare art become an armour and 
 support to the mountain which lies above thee.” 
 
 (B. M. 263, Ar. 156 7.) 
 
 1 The text of the above passage is in parts very indistinct. As my 
 transcript differs in several places from that given by Dr. Richter (Literary 
 Works of L. da V. § 1217), I give the passage iz extenso:— 
 
 O potéte e¢ gia anjmato struméto dell arteficiosa natura | a te no valédo le 
 tue gra forze ti chouene abadonare la traquilla vita obedjre alla legie | chel 
 che djo el tépo dje_ alla gienjtrice natura a tette no ualse | le ramvte e (Leg) 
 
OF THE FORESIGHT OF NATURE 137 
 
 O how many times hast thou been seen amid the waves 
 of the mighty, swelling ocean, towering like a mountain, 
 conquering and overcoming them! And with black 
 finned back ploughing through the salt waves with proud 
 and stately bearing ! (C. A. 265 7. a.) 
 
 WHY NATURE DID NOT ORDAIN THAT ONE ANIMAL 
 SHOULD NOT LIVE BY THE DEATH OF ANOTHER 
 
 Nature being capricious, and taking pleasure in creat- 
 ing and producing a succession of new lives and forms 
 because she knows that they serve to increase her terres- 
 trial substance, is more ready and swift so to create than 
 time is to destroy; and therefore she has ordained that 
 many of the animals shall serve as food one for the other. 
 And as her desire is still unsatisfied, she frequently sends 
 forth certain noisome and pestilential vapours upon the 
 rapidly increasing herds of animals, and especially upon 
 men, who.increase very rapidly because other animals do 
 
 ha ghagliard(r)e (apri) schiene cholle quali tu seghuitado la tua | pleda 
 (aprivis) solchavi chopetto apredo chotépessta le salse ode | 
 
 “O quate volte (fusti) furono vedute le tpavrite schiere | de dalfinie de gra 
 tonnj fugi(d)re dal inpia tua tua ffuria (occhupare) | ettu cho chol velocie 
 ramvte lalie cholla forcielluta choda fuminado gieneravj nel mare | nibia 
 (iaté pessta) subita tépessta cho gra busso e somersione dj navilj cho gra | de 
 ddaméto épievi gli schcp(er)ti liti (de gra) degli Ipavritj essbigho | ttitj pesscj 
 e toglédosi atte p(er) lasciato mare ri(z) masi in seccho dyvenjvano sup(er)cha 
 e a | bodante pleda de vicinj popolj. 
 
 *(O tépo quati re.) 
 
 ‘O tépo chonsumatore delle (dj tutte le) chose : ateri volgiédole | dai (4) alle 
 tratte viee nvuove e varie abitazionj (O quate | monarchie cha 0 quat:). O 
 tépo (vicitore) velocie pledatore | della chleate chose quatj re quati popolj ai 
 tu djssfatt] e qua | te mutazionj djsstatj e vari chasj (s0) sono seghuitj po che 
 la mara | vgliosa forma dj q(ue)sto pesscie quj morj | p(er) le chav(er)nose e 
 ritorte interiora | 
 
 ‘ora disfato dal tépo pazéte djaci j questo chivso locho chole scepieta’ 
 spolpate e ignjvde ossa | ai fatto (ra) armadura e sosstegnjo al sop(r)a possto 
 
 mote.” 
 
138 OF THE END OF THE WORLD 
 
 not feed upon them, and if these causes were removed 
 the results would cease. So therefore this earth seeks to 
 lose its life, desiring only constant reproduction, and as, 
 for the reason which you have assigned and expounded, 
 the effects are generally in harmony with their causes, 
 so animals are a type of the life of the world. 
 (B. M, 263, Ar. 156 v.) 
 The watery element remained pent up within the 
 raised banks of the rivers, and the sea is seen amid the 
 upheaved masses of the earth; the surrounding air 
 served to bind together and circumscribe the earth’s 
 manifold structure, because its mass which stood between 
 the water and the fiery element remained straitly com- 
 passed about, and deprived of the needful supply of 
 water. The rivers will remain without their waters; 
 the fertile earth will put forth no more her light leaves, 
 no more will the fields be decked with waving corn ; all 
 the animals will perish failing to find fresh grass for 
 fodder, and the ravening lions and wolves and other 
 beasts which live by prey will lack sustenance, and after 
 many desperate shifts men will be forced to abandon 
 their lives, and the human race will cease to be. Hence 
 the fertile and fruitful earth being deserted will be left 
 arid and sterile, but by reason of the stored-up moisture 
 of the water confined within its depths and by the very 
 activity of nature it will observe something of its law of 
 growth, until after having passed through the cold and 
 rarified air it will be forced to end its course in the 
 element of fire; and then the surface of it will remain 
 burnt to a cinder, and this will be the end of all terres- 
 . trial nature. (B. M. 263, 4r.155 ¢.) 
 
OF NOTHINGNESS—OF THE ECHO 139 
 
 Nothingness has no centre, and its boundaries are 
 nothingness, 
 
 My opponent says that nothingness and a vacuum are 
 one and the same thing, having indeed two separate 
 names by which they are called, but not existing 
 separately in nature. 
 
 The reply is that whenever there exists a vacuum 
 there will also be the space which surrounds it, but 
 nothingness exists apart from occupation of space ; it 
 follows that nothingness and a vacuum are not the 
 same, for the one is divisible to infinity, and nothingness 
 cannot be divided because nothing can be less than it is ; 
 and if you were to take part from it this part would be 
 equal to the whole, and the whole to the part. 
 
 (C. A. 289 2. 4.) 
 
 THE NOTE OF THE ECHO 
 
 The note of the echo is either continuous or inter- 
 mittent, it occurs alone or is united, is of brief or long 
 duration, finite or endless in sound, immediate or far 
 away. It is continuous when the surface on which the 
 echo is produced is uniformly concave. The note of 
 the echo is intermittent when the place which produces it 
 is broken and interrupted. It is alone when it is pro- 
 duced in one place only. It is united when it is produced 
 in several places. It is either brief or long-continuing, 
 as when it goes winding round within a bell which has 
 been struck, or in a cistern or other hollow space, or 
 in clouds wherein the note recurs at fixed distances in 
 regular intervals of time, ever uniformly growing fainter, 
 
140 : OF ACOUSTICS 
 
 and is like the wave that spreads itself out in a circle 
 over the sea. 
 
 The sound often seems to proceed from the direction 
 of the echo, and not from the place where the real sound 
 is; and similarly it happened at Ghiera d’Adda, when a 
 fire which broke out there caused in the air twelve lurid 
 reflections upon twelve clouds, and the cause was not 
 perceived. (CV A970. 8.) 
 
 OF THE SOUND WHICH SEEMS TO REMAIN IN THE 
 BELL AFTER THE STROKE 
 
 That sound which remains or seems to remain in the 
 bell after it has received the stroke is not in the bell 
 itself but in the ear of the listener, and the ear retains 
 within itself the image of the stroke of the bell which it 
 has heard, and only loses it by slow degrees, like that 
 which the impression of the sun creates in the eye, 
 which only by slow degrees becomes lost and is no 
 longer seen. 
 
 A PROOF TO THE CONTRARY 
 
 If the aforesaid proposition were true, you would not 
 be able to cause the sound of the bell to cease abruptly 
 by touching it with the palm of the hand, especially at 
 the beginning of its strength, for surely if it were touched 
 it would not happen that as you touched the bell with the 
 hand the ear would simultaneously withhold the sound ; 
 whereas we see that if after the stroke has taken place 
 the hand is placed upon the thing which is struck the 
 sound suddenly ceases. (C. A. 332 v. 2.) 
 
OF THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS 141 
 
 I have divided the Treatise on Birds into four books : 
 of which the first treats of their flight by beating their 
 wings ; the second of flight without beating the wings 
 and with the help of the wind; the third of flight in 
 general, such as that of birds, bats, fishes, animals, 
 and insects ; the last of the mechanism of this movement. 
 
 (K 31.) 
 
 I 
 
 The bird in its flight without the help of the wind 
 drops half the wing downwards, and thrusts the other 
 half towards the tip backwards; and the part which is 
 moved down prevents the descent of the bird, and that 
 which goes backwards drives the bird forward. 
 
 When the bird raises its wings it brings their ex- 
 tremities near together; and while lowering them it 
 spreads them further apart during the first half of the 
 movement, but after this middle stage as they continue 
 to descend it brings them together again. (K 12 7.) 
 
 When the bird lowers one of its wings necessity 
 constrains it instantly to extend it, for if it did not do 
 so it would turn right over. 
 
 The bird when it wishes to turn does not beat its 
 wings with equal movement, but moves the one which 
 makes the convex of the circle it describes, more than 
 that which makes the concave of the circle. (Kav) | 
 
 The bird beats its wings repeatedly on one side only 
 when it wishes to turn round while one wing is held 
 stationary; and this it does by taking a stroke with the 
 wing in the direction of the tail, like a man rowing in 
 
142 OF THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS 
 
 a boat with two oars, who takes many strokes on that 
 side from which he wishes to escape, and keeps the other 
 oar fixed. (K 77.) 
 
 Unless the movement of the wing which pressés the 
 air is swifter than the flight of the air when pressed, 
 the air will not become condensed beneath the wing, and 
 in consequence the bird will not support itself above 
 the air. 
 
 That part of the air which is nearest to the wing 
 will most resemble in its movement the movement of 
 the wing which presses on it ; and that part will be more 
 stable which is further removed from the said wing. 
 
 That part of the air which is the nearest to the wing 
 which presses on it, will have the greatest density. 
 
 The air has greater density when it is nearer to water, 
 and [greater rarity] when it is nearer to the cold region, 
 and midway between these it is purer. 
 
 The air of the cold region offers no resistance to the 
 movement of the birds unless they have already passed 
 through a considerable space of the air beneath them. 
 
 The extremities of the wings of birds are of necessity 
 flexible. 
 
 The properties of the air are such that it may become 
 condensed or rarefied. (C. A. 161 7, 2.) 
 
 The birds which seek to penetrate within the approach- 
 ing wind are in the habit of fluttering to the right and 
 to the left, like sailors tacking against the direction of the 
 winds ; and this they do in order not to make a long 
 descent, for if the bird did not guard against descending 
 
OF THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS 143 
 
 for any great distance, it would be driven right against 
 the current of the wind ; and, entering under the wind 
 slanting lengthwise, it will present so much of its weight 
 by this line as to subdue the resistance of the wind. 
 (K 8 v.) 
 The opening and lowering of the tail and the spread- 
 ing out of the wings at the same time to their full 
 extent, arrests the swift movement of birds. 
 
 When birds in descending are near to the ground, 
 and the head is below the tail, they then lower the tail, 
 which is spread wide open, and take short strokes with 
 the wings; and consequently the head becomes higher 
 than the tail, and the speed is checked to such an extent 
 that the bird alights on the ground without any shock. 
 
 In all the changes which birds make in their lines of 
 movement they spread out their tails. 
 
 There are many birds which move their wings as 
 swiftly when they raise them as when they let them fall : 
 such as magpies and birds like these. (L 58.) 
 
 There are some birds which are.in the habit of moving 
 their wings more swiftly when they lower them than when 
 they raise them, and this is seen to be the case with 
 doves and such like birds. 
 
 There are others which lower their wings more slowly 
 than they raise them, and this seen with rooks and other 
 birds like these. 
 
 The birds which fly swiftly, keeping at the same distance 
 above the ground, are in the habit of beating their wings 
 downwards and behind them, downwards to the extent 
 
144 OF THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS 
 
 necessary to prevent the bird from descending, and 
 behind when they wish to advance with greater speed. 
 
 The speed of birds is checked by the opening and 
 spreading out of the tail. (L 59 ».) 
 
 II 
 
 The imperceptible fluttering of the wings without any 
 actual strokes keeps the bird poised and motionless amid 
 the moving air. 
 
 The reverse movement against the direction of the 
 wind will always be greater than the advancing move- 
 ment ; and the reverse movement when made with the 
 course of the wind will be increased by the wind, and 
 will become equal to the advancing movement. 
 
 The ways in which birds rise, without beating their 
 wings but by circles, with the help of the wind, are of two 
 kinds,—simple and complex. The simple comprise those 
 in which, in their advancing movement, they travel above 
 the flight of the wind, and at the end of it turn and face the 
 direction of the wind, receiving its buffeting from beneath, 
 and so finish the reverse movement against the wind. - 
 
 The complex movement by which birds rise is also 
 circular, and consists of an advancing and reverse move- 
 ment against the direction of the wind in a course which 
 takes the form of a half circle, and of an advancing and 
 reverse movement which follows the course of the wind. 
 
 The simple circular movement of rising without beat- 
 ing the wings will always occur when there is great 
 agitation of the winds, and this being the case, it follows 
 that the bird in so rising is also carried a considerable 
 
OF THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS 145 
 
 distance by the force of the wind. And the complex 
 movement will be found to occur when there are light 
 winds, for experience shows that in these complex 
 movements the bird rises through the air without being 
 carried too far by the wind in the direction in which it is 
 travelling. 
 
 The down and feathers underneath the wings are 
 plentiful, and at the ends of the wings and tail the tips of 
 the feathers are flexible or capable of being bent, whilst 
 those on the front of the wing, where it strikes the air, 
 are firm. (C. A. 308 r. 3.) 
 
 My opponent says that he cannot deny that the bird 
 cannot fall either backwards or with head underneath 
 in a perpendicular line ; but that it seems to him that its 
 descent may be sheer if it keeps the wings wide open and 
 has one of the wings as well as the head below its centre 
 of gravity! To this argument the answer is the same as 
 to what preceded it; that is, that if this bird being in such 
 a position without having other means of aiding itself 
 were to drop perpendicularly, it would be contrary to 
 the fourth part of the second book of the Elements, 
 where it was proved that every body which falls freely 
 through the air will fall in such a way that the heaviest 
 part of it will become the guide of its movement; and 
 here the heaviest part is found to be midway between 
 the extremities of the open wings, that is midway between 
 the two lightest parts, and therefore, as has been proved, 
 such a descent is impossible. 
 
 1 The MS. has here an explanation of a diagram: ‘that is, it will drop in 
 the line a 4, the wings dc being wide apart at their natural extension.’ 
 
 K 
 
146 _ OF THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS 
 
 We have therefore proved that when a bird has its 
 wings spread out and its head somewhat raised, it is 
 impossible for it ever to fall or descend in a perpen- 
 dicular line ; on the contrary, it will always descend by 
 a slanting line, and every tiny movement of wings or 
 tail changes the direction and slanting descent of this 
 line to the reflex movement 
 
 Nature has so provided that all the large birds can 
 stay at so great an elevation that the wind which 
 increases their flight may be of straight course and 
 powerful. For if their flight were low, among moun- 
 tains where the wind goes wandering and is perpetually 
 full of eddies and whirlwinds, and where they cannot 
 find any spot of shelter by reason of the fury of the icy 
 blasts among the narrow defiles of the mountains, nor 
 can so guide themselves with their great wings as to 
 avoid being dashed upon the cliffs and the high rocks 
 and trees, would not this sometimes prove to be the cause 
 of their destruction? Whereas at great altitudes when- 
 ever through some accident the course of the wind is © 
 changed in any way whatsoever the bird has always time 
 to redirect its course, and in safety take a calm flight, 
 which will always be entirely free; and it can always 
 pass above clouds and thereby avoid wetting its wings. 
 
 Inasmuch as all beginnings of things are often the 
 cause of great results, so we may see a small almost 
 imperceptible movement of the rudder to have power 
 to turn a ship of marvellous size and loaded with a very 
 heavy cargo, and that, too, amid such a weight of water 
 as presses on its every beam, and in the teeth of the 
 
OF THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS 147 
 
 impetuous winds which are enveloping its mighty sails. 
 Therefore we may be certain in the case of those birds 
 which can support themselves above the course of the 
 winds without beating their wings, that a slight move- | 
 ment of wing or tail, which will serve them to enter 
 either below or above the wind, will suffice to prevent 
 the fall of the said birds. (C. A. 308 ». 4.) 
 
 The helms which are on the shoulders of the wings are 
 necessary when the bird in its flight without beating its 
 wings wishes to maintain itself in, part of a tract of air, 
 upon which it is either slipping down or rising, and 
 when it wishes to bend either upwards or downwards 
 or to right or left. It then uses these helms in this 
 manner: if the bird wishes to rise it spreads the helm 
 in the opposite direction to the way the wind strikes it ; 
 and if to descend it spreads the top part of the helm 
 slanting to the course of the wind. If it turns to the 
 right it spreads the right helm to the wind, and if it 
 turns to the left it spreads the left helm to the wind. 
 
 (K 7 2%) 
 
 When the bird rises up by the assistance of the wind 
 without beating its wings, it spreads out and raises its 
 wings so that they form an arch with the concave side 
 towards the sky, and it receives the wind under its wings 
 continually, in its movement to and fro, and this would 
 cause it to turn right over, if rt were not that the point 
 of its tail is turned to the wind as it enters beneath the 
 wind ; and this afterwards by its power of resistance acts 
 to prevent the said movement of turning over, because 
 the wings are restrained by the tail in such a way that 
 
148 OF THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS 
 
 their various parts are of equal power, and so the tail 
 becomes partly lowered and the bird is raised forward 
 
 slightly. (K 10 @.) 
 
 When the kite rises or sinks without beating its wings, 
 it holds them slanting, and keeps the tail slanting in 
 the same way but not to the same extent, for if this 
 were so the bird would fall to the ground by the line 
 of the slant of the wings and of the tail; but as this 
 tail is away from the centre of the bird’s length it meets 
 with somewhat more resistance than the wings, and this 
 in consequence checks its movement, and so the tail 
 has less movement than the wings. Necessity causes 
 the bird to move with a circular motion, and as the tail 
 is less slanting, so in proportion the circles are less in 
 diameter, and so also conversely. (K 60 [11] r. 59 [10] v.) 
 
 When the bird is carried along by the wind and 
 wishes to turn quickly towards it, it will then enter 
 beneath the wind with the wing turned towards it; and 
 then with the feathers of the tail turned towards the 
 wind, it will enter upon it, and so by the help of the 
 wind striking upon its tail it turns much more rapidly. 
 
 (K 9 a) 
 
 If one of the wings is lowered rapidly and then folded - 
 the bird drops a little on that side; and if it is lowered 
 rapidly and extended the bird drops on the opposite 
 side; and if it is lowered slowly and extended the bird 
 moves in a circle round this wing, falling as it proceeds ; 
 and if it is lowered slowly and with hesitation, and — 
 
 folded up, then the bird descends in curves on that side. 
 (K 417. 3 %) 
 
OF THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS 149 
 
 All birds driven by the water or by the wind keep 
 their heads in the direction from whence the water or 
 the wind are coming. They do this in order to prevent 
 the wind or the water penetrating up from the extremities 
 to the roots of the feathers, so that each of the feathers 
 may be pressed against another, and thus they may 
 remain drier and warmer. (K 3 0.) 
 
 The bird rises to a height in a straight line without 
 beating its wings when the reflex current of the wind 
 strikes it from underneath. (K 31.) 
 
 Ill 
 
 When the kite in descending turns itself right over 
 and pierces the air head downwards, it is forced to bend 
 the tail as far as it can in the opposite direction to that 
 which it desires to follow; and then again bending the 
 tail swiftly, according to the direction in which it wishes 
 to turn, the change in the bird’s course corresponds to 
 the turn of the tail, like the rudder of a ship which 
 when turned turns the ship, but in the opposite direc- 
 tion. 
 
 When the wind is about to throw the bird backwards 
 then the bird draws together the shoulders of its wings, 
 so that its weight is massed more to the front than it was 
 at first, and consequently the part that is heaviest is first 
 in its descent, while in addition the tail is spread out 
 and bent down. (L 62 r.) 
 
 The kite and the other birds which move their wings 
 only a little way, go in search of the current of the 
 
160 OF THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS 
 
 wind; and when the wind is blowing at a height they 
 may be seen at a great elevation, but if it is blowing low 
 down then they remain low. 
 
 When there is no wind stirring in the air then the 
 kite beats its wings more rapidly in its flight, in such a 
 way that it rises to a height and acquires an impetus ; 
 with which impetus, dropping then very gradually, it can 
 travel for a great distance without moving its wings. 
 
 And when it has descended it does the sam: over 
 again, and so continues for many times in succession. 
 
 This method of descending without moving the wings 
 serves it as a means of resting in the air after the fatigue 
 of the above mentioned beating of the wings. 
 
 All the birds which fly in spurts.rise to a height by 
 beating their wings; and during tueir descent they 
 proceed to rest themselves, for while descending they do 
 not beat their wings. (Sul Volo degli Uccelli 6[5]e.) 
 
 The swallow has its wings quite different from those of 
 the kite, for it is very narrow in the shoulder and long 
 in the span of the wing. Its stroke when it flies is made 
 up of two distinct actions, that is the span of the wing is 
 spread out like an oar in the direction of the tail, the 
 shoulder towards the earth; and in this way while the 
 one movement impels it forward, the other keeps it at 
 its height, and the two combined carry it a stage 
 onwards wherever it pleases. (C. A. 369 7. 4.) 
 
 The thrushes and other small birds are able to make 
 headway against the course of the wind, because they 
 fly in spurts; that is they take a long course below 
 
OF ARTIFICIAL FLIGHT 151 
 
 the wind, by dropping in a slanting direction towards 
 the ground, with their wings half closed, and they then 
 open the wings and catch the wind in them with their 
 reverse movement, and so rise to a height ; and then 
 they drop again in the same way. (C. A. 313 r. 3.) 
 
 Remember that your bird should have no other 
 model than the bat, because its membranes serve as an 
 armour or rather as a means of binding together the 
 pieces of its armour, that is the framework of the wings. 
 
 And if you take as your pattern the wings of feathered 
 birds, these are more powerful in structure of bone and 
 sinew because they are penetrable, that is to say the 
 feathers are separated from one another and the air 
 passes through them. But the bat is aided by its 
 membrane which binds the whole together and is not 
 penetrated by the air. (Sul Volo degli Uccelli, 16 [15] r.) 
 
 OF THE BIRDS MOVEMENT 
 
 Of whether birds when continually descending 
 without beating their wings will proceed a greater dis- 
 tance in one sustained curve, or by frequently making 
 some reflex movement ; and whether when they wish to 
 pass in flight from one spot to another they will go more 
 quickly by making impetuous, headlong movements, and 
 then rising up with reflex movement and again making a 
 fresh descent, and so continuing.—1o0 speak of this sub- 
 ject you must needs in the first book explain the nature 
 of the resistance of the air, in the second the anatomy 
 of the bird and of its wings, in the third the method 
 of working of the wings in their various movements, 
 
152 OF ARTIFICIAL FLIGHT 
 
 in the fourth the power of the wings and of the tail, 
 at such time as the wings are not being moved and 
 the wind is favourable, to serve as a guide in different 
 movements. 
 
 Dissect the bat, study it carefully, and on this model 
 construct the machine. (F 41 v) 
 
 IV 
 
 A bird is an instrument working according to mathe- 
 matical law, which instrument it is within the capacity 
 of man to reproduce with all its movements, but not 
 with a corresponding degree of strength, though it is 
 deficient only in the power of maintaining equilibrium. 
 We may therefore say that such an instrument con- 
 structed by man is lacking in nothing except the life 
 of the bird, and this life must needs be supplied from 
 that of man. 
 
 The life which resides in the bird’s members will 
 without doubt better conform to their needs than will 
 that of man which is separated from them, and especially 
 in the almost imperceptible movements which preserve 
 equilibrium. But since we see that the bird is equipped 
 for many obvious varieties of movements, we are able 
 from this experience to deduce that the most rudimen- 
 tary of these movements will be capable of being 
 comprehended by man’s understanding; and that he 
 will to a great extent be able to provide against the 
 destruction of that instrument of which he has himself 
 
 become the living principle and the propeller. 
 | (C. A. 161 1, 4.) 
 
OF ARTIFICIAL FLIGHT 153 
 
 There is as much pressure exerted by a substance 
 against the air as by the air against the substance. 
 
 Observe how the beating of its wings against the air 
 suffices to bear up the weight of the eagle in the highly 
 rarefied air which borders on the fiery element! Ob- 
 serve also how the air moving over the sea, beaten back 
 by the bellying sails, causes the heavily laden ship to 
 glide onwards! So that by adducing and expounding 
 the reasons of these things you may be able to realise 
 that man when he has great wings attached to him, by 
 exerting his strength against the resistance of the air 
 and conquering it, is enabled to subdue it and to raise 
 himself upon it. PM ESTE 381 oa.) 
 
 Suppose that here there is a body suspended, which 
 resembles that of a bird, and that its tail is twisted to 
 an angle of various different degrees ; you will be able 
 by means of this to deduce a general rule as to the 
 various twists and turns in the movements of birds 
 occasioned by the bending of their tails. R 
 
 In all the varieties of movements the heaviest part of | 
 the thing which moves becomes the guide of the move- 
 ment. (Z 61 p.) 
 
 The bird I have described ought to be able by the 
 help of the wind to rise to a great height, and this will 
 prove to be its safety ; since even if all the above-men- 
 tioned revolutions were to befall it, it would still have 
 time to regain a condition of equilibrium ; provided 
 that its various parts have a great power of resistance, 
 so that they can safely withstand the fury and violence © 
 of the descent, by the aid of the defences which I have 
 
154 OF ARTIFICIAL FLIGHT 
 
 mentioned ; and its joints should be made of strong 
 tanned hide, and sewn with cords of very strong raw 
 silk. And let no one encumber himself with iron bands, 
 for these are very soon broken at the joints or else they 
 become worn out, and consequently it is well not to 
 
 encumber one’s self with them. 
 (Sal Voto degh Uccelli, 8 [7] r.) 
 
 AN ARGUMENT TO DISPOSE OF THE OBJECTIONS 
 TO THE ATTEMPT 
 
 You will perhaps say that the sinews and muscles of 
 a bird are incomparably more powerful than those of 
 man, vecause all the girth of so many muscles and of 
 the fleshy parts of the breast goes to aid and increase 
 the movement of the wings, while the bone in the breast 
 is all in one piece and consequently affords the bird very 
 great power, the wings also being all covered with a 
 network of thick sinews and other very strong ligaments 
 of gristle, and the skin being very thick with various 
 muscles. But the reply to this is that such great strength 
 gives it a reserve of power beyond what it ordinarily uses 
 to support itself on its wings, since it is necessary for 
 it whenever it may so desire either to double or treble 
 its rate of speed in order to escape from its pursuer 
 or to follow its prey. Consequently in such a case it 
 becomes necessary for it to put forth double or treble 
 the amount of effort, and in addition to this to carry 
 through the air in its talons a weight corresponding to 
 its own weight. So one sees a falcon carrying a duck 
 and an eagle carrying a hare ; which circumstance shows 
 clearly enough where the excess of strength is spent ; for 
 
OF ARTIFICIAL FLIGHT 155 
 
 they need but little force in order to sustain themselves, 
 and to balance themselves on their wings, and flap them in 
 the pathway of the wind and so direct the course of their 
 journeyings ; and a slight movement of the wings is 
 sufficient for this, and the movement will be slower in 
 proportion as the bird is greater in size. 
 
 Man is also possessed of a greater amount of strength 
 in his legs than is required by his weight. And in order 
 to show the truth of this, place a man to stand upon 
 the sea-shore, and observe how far the marks of his feet 
 sink in; and then set another man on his back, and you 
 will see how much deeper the marks of his feet will be. 
 Then take away the man from his back, and set him to 
 jump straight up as high as he can; you will then find 
 that the marks of his feet make a deeper impression 
 where he has jumped than where he has had the other 
 man on his back. ‘This affords us a double proof that 
 man is possessed of more than twice the amount of 
 strength that is required to enable him to support himself. 
 
 (Sul Volo degli Uccelli 17 |16| r.) 
 
BOOK III 
 
 ART 
 
 I, PAINTING, POETRY, AND SCULPTURE 
 
 HOW PAINTING SURPASSES ALL HUMAN WORKS BY REASON 
 OF THE SUBTLE POSSIBILITIES WHICH IT CONTAINS 
 
 THE eye, which is called the window of the soul, is the 
 chief means whereby the understanding may most fully 
 and abundantly appreciate the infinite works of nature ; 
 and the ear is the second inasmuch as it acquires its 
 importance from the fact that it hears the things 
 which the eye has seen. If you historians, or poets, 
 or mathematicians had never seen things with your 
 eyes you would be ill able to describe them in your 
 writings. And if you, O poet, represent a story by 
 depicting it with your pen, the painter with his brush 
 will so render it as to be more easily satisfying and less 
 tedious to understand. If you call painting ‘dumb 
 poetry,’ then the painter may say of the poet that his 
 art is ‘blind painting.’ Consider then which is the more 
 grievous affliction, to be blind or be dumb! Although 
 the poet has as wide a choice of subjects as the painter, 
 his creations fail to afford as much satisfaction to man- 
 kind as do paintings, for while poetry attempts with 
 
 words to represent forms, actions, and scenes, the painter 
 156 
 
OF PAINTING AND POETRY 157 
 
 employs the exact images of the forms in order to re- 
 produce these forms. Consider, then, which is more 
 fundamental to man, the name of man or his image? 
 The name changes with change of country ; the form 
 is unchanged except by death. 
 
 And if the poet serves the understanding by way of 
 the ear, the painter does so by the eye which is the nobler 
 sense. I will only cite as an instance of this how if a 
 good painter represents the fury of a battle and a poet 
 also describes one, and the two descriptions are shown 
 together to the public, you will soon see which will 
 draw most of the spectators, and where there will be 
 most discussion, to which most praise will be given and 
 which will satisfy the more. There is no doubt that the 
 painting which is by far the more useful and beautiful 
 will give the greater pleasure. Inscribe in any place the 
 name of God and set opposite to it his image, you will 
 see which will be held in greater reverence ! 
 
 Since painting embraces within itself all the forms of 
 nature you have nothing omitted except the names, and 
 these are not universal like the forms. If you have the 
 results of her processes we have the processes of her 
 results. 
 
 Take the case of a poet describing the beauties of a 
 lady to her lover and that of a painter who makes a 
 portrait of her; you will see whither nature will the 
 more incline the enamoured judge. Surely the proof of 
 the matter ought to rest upon the verdict of experience ! 
 
 You have set painting among the mechanical arts! 
 Truly were painters as ready equipped as you are to 
 praise their own works in writing I doubt whether it would 
 
158 OF PAINTING AND POETRY 
 
 endure the reproach of so vile a name. If you call it 
 mechanical because it is by manual work that the hands 
 represent what the imagination creates, your writers are 
 setting down with the pen by manual work what origi- 
 nates in the mind. If you call it mechanical because it 
 is done for money, who fall into this error—if indeed 
 it can be called an error—more than you yourselves ? 
 If you lecture for the Schools do you not go to whoever 
 pays you the most? Do you do any work without 
 some reward? And yet I do not say this in order to 
 censure such opinions, for every labour looks for its 
 reward. And if the poet should say, ‘I will create a . 
 fiction which shall express great things,’ so likewise will 
 the painter also, for even so Apelles made the Calumny. 
 If you should say that poetry is the more enduring,— 
 to this I would reply that the works of a coppersmith 
 are more enduring still, since time preserves them longer 
 than either your works or ours ; nevertheless they show 
 but little imagination ; and painting if it be done upon 
 copper in enamel colours can be made far more en- 
 during. 
 
 In Art we may be said to be grandsons unto God. 
 If poetry treats of moral philosophy, painting has to do 
 with natural philosophy ; if the one describes the work- 
 ings of the mind, the other considers what the mind 
 effects by movements of the body; if the one dismays 
 folk by hellish fictions, the other does the like by show- 
 ing the same things in action. Suppose the poet sets 
 himself to represent some image of beauty or terror, 
 something vile and foul, or some monstrous thing, in 
 contest with the painter, and suppose in his own way 
 
OF PAINTING AND POETRY 159 
 
 he makes a change of forms at his pleasure, will not the 
 painter still satisfy the more? Have we not seen pic- 
 tures which bear so close a resemblance to the actual 
 thing that they have deceived both men and beasts? 
 
 If you know how to describe and write down the 
 appearance of the forms, the painter can make them so 
 that they appear enlivened with lights and shadows 
 which create the very expression of the faces; herein 
 you cannot attain with the pen where he attains with 
 the brush. (Bis. Nat. MS. 2038, 19 r. and v., 20 r. 
 
 So soon as the poet ceases to represent in words what 
 exists in nature, then the poet ceases to be like the 
 painter; for if the poet were to leave such representa- 
 tion and describe the polished and persuasive words of 
 him whom he wishes to represent speaking, then he 
 becomes an orator and is no longer a poet or a painter ; 
 and if he speaks of the heavens he becomes an astrologer ; 
 and a philosopher and theologian when discoursing of the 
 works of nature or of God. But if he confines himself 
 to the representation of specific objects he‘ will vie with 
 the painter only if by his words he can satisfy the oye to 
 the same extent as he does. 
 
 (Windsor MSS. Notes et dessins sur la Génération { Rouveyre}, 1 r.). 
 
 HOW HE WHO DESPISES PAINTING HAS NO LOVE FOR 
 THE PHILOSOPHY IN NATURE 
 
 If you despise painting, which is the sole imitator of 
 all the visible works of nature, it is certain that you will 
 be despising a subtle invention which with philosophical 
 and ingenious speculation takes as its theme all the various 
 
160 OF PAINTING AND SCULPTURE 
 
 kinds of forms, airs, and scenes, plants, animals, grasses 
 and flowers, which are surrounded by light and shade. 
 And this truly is a science and the true-born daughter of 
 nature, since painting is the offspring of nature. But in 
 order to speak more correctly we may call it the grand- 
 child of nature ; for all visible things derive their exist- 
 ence from nature, and from these same things is born 
 painting. So therefore we may justly speak of it as 
 the grandchild of nature and as related to God Him- 
 self. (MS. 2038 Bib. Nat. 20 r.) 
 
 THAT SCULPTURE IS LESS INTELLECTUAL THAN PAINT-— 
 ING, AND LACKS MANY OF ITS NATURAL PARTS 
 
 As practising myself the art of sculpture no less than 
 that of painting, and doing both the one and the other 
 in the same degree, it seems to me that without suspicion 
 of unfairness I may venture to give an opinion as to 
 which of the two is the more intellectual, and of the 
 greater difficulty and perfection. In the first place 
 sculpture is dependent on certain lights, namely those 
 from above, while a picture carries everywhere with it 
 its own light and shade; light and shade therefore are 
 essential to sculpture. In this respect the sculptor is 
 aided by the nature of the relief which produces these of 
 its own accord, but the painter artificially creates them 
 by his art in places where nature would normally do the 
 like. The sculptor cannot render the difference in the 
 varying natures of the colours of objects ; painting does 
 not fail to do so in any particular. The lines of perspec- 
 tive of sculptors do not seem in any way true; those of 
 painters may appear to extend a hundred miles beyond 
 
OF PAINTING AND SCULPTURE 161 
 
 the work itself. The effects of aerial perspective are 
 outside the scope of their work ; they can neither repre- 
 sent transparent bodies nor luminous bodies nor angles 
 of reflection nor shining bodies such as mirrors and like 
 things of glittering surface, nor mists, nor dull weather, 
 nor an infinite number of things which I forbear to 
 mention lest they should prove wearisome. 
 
 The one advantage which it has is that of offering 
 greater resistance to time; yet painting offers a like 
 resistance if it is done upon thick copper covered with 
 white enamel and then painted upon with enamel colours 
 and placed in a fire and fused. In degree of permanence 
 it then surpasses even sculpture. 
 
 It may be urged that if a mistake is made it is not 
 easy to set it right, but it is a poor line of argument to 
 attempt to prove that the fact of a mistake being ir- 
 remediable makes the work more noble. I should say 
 indeed that it is more difficult to correct the mind of the 
 master who makes such mistakes than the work which 
 he has spoiled. We know very well that a good 
 experienced painter will not make such mistakes ; on the 
 contrary following sound rules he will proceed by 
 removing so little at a time that his work will progress 
 well. The sculptor also if he is working in clay or wax 
 can either take away from it or add to it, and when the 
 model is completed it is easy to cast it in bronze; and 
 this is the last process and it is the most enduring form 
 of sculpture, since that which is only in marble is liable 
 to be destroyed, but not when done in bronze. 
 
 But painting done upon copper, which by the methods 
 in use in painting may be either taken from or altered, 
 
 L 
 
162 OF SCULPTURE 
 
 is like the bronze, for when you have first made the 
 model for this in wax it can still be either reduced or 
 altered. While the sculpture in bronze is imperish- 
 able, this painting upon copper and enamel is absolutely 
 eternal; and while bronze remains dark and rough, this 
 is full of an infinite variety of varied and lovely colours, 
 of which I have already made mention. But if you 
 would have me speak only of panel painting I am 
 content to give an opinion between it and sculpture by 
 saying that painting is more beautiful, more imaginative, 
 and richer in resource, while sculpture is more enduring, 
 but excels in nothing else. Sculpture reveals what it is 
 with little effort ; painting seems a thing miraculous, 
 making things intangible appear tangible, presenting in 
 relief things which are flat, in distance things near at 
 hand, In fact painting is adorned with infinite possi- 
 bilities of which sculpture can make no use. 
 
 (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 25 r. and 24 0.) 
 
 The sculptor cannot represent transparent or luminous 
 things. | (C. A. 215 0. d.) 
 
 OF STATUES , 
 
 If you wish to make a figure of marble make first one 
 of clay, and after you have finished it and let it dry, set 
 it in a case, which should be sufficiently large that—after 
 the figure has been taken out—it can hold the block of 
 marble wherein you purpose to lay bare a figure re- 
 sembling that in clay. Then after you have placed the 
 clay figure inside this case make pegs so that they fit 
 exactly into holes in the case, and drive them in at each 
 hole until each white peg touches the figure at a different 
 
PLATE 7 
 
 GENISTA TINCTORIA 
 (Dyers’ Greenweed) 
 
 Face p. 163 
 
 QUERCUS ROBUR PEDUNCULATA 
 (Stalked Oak) 
 
THE MIND OF THE PAINTER 163 
 
 spot ; stain black such parts of the pegs as project out 
 of the case, and make a distinguishing mark for each peg 
 and for its hole so that you may fit them together at 
 your ease. Then take the clay model out of the case 
 and place the block of marble in it, and take away from 
 the marble sufficient for all the pegs to be hidden in the 
 holes up to their marks, and in order to be able to do 
 this better make the case so that the whole of it can be 
 lifted up and the bottom may still remain under the 
 marble ; and by this means you will be able to use the 
 cutting tools with great readiness. (A 43 7.) 
 
 I]. THE PRECEPTS OF THE PAINTER 
 PAINTING 
 
 The mind of the painter should be like a mirror 
 which always takes the colour of the thing that it reflects 
 and which is filled by as many images as there are things 
 placed before it. Knowing therefore that you cannot 
 be a good master unless you have a universal power of 
 representing by your art all the varieties of the forms 
 which nature produces,—which indeed you will not know 
 how to do unless you see them and retain them in your 
 mind,—look to it, O Painter, that when you go into the 
 fields you give your attention to the various objects and 
 look carefully in turn first at one thing and then at an- 
 other, making a bundle of different things selected and 
 chosen from: among those of less value. And do not 
 after the manner of some painters who when tired by 
 imaginative work, lay aside their task and take exercise 
 by walking in order to find relaxation, keeping, however, 
 such weariness of mind as prevents them either seeing or 
 
164 OF THE PROGRESS OF PAINTING 
 
 being conscious of different objects ; so that often when 
 meeting friends or relatives, and being saluted by them, 
 although they may see and hear them they know them 
 
 no more than if they had met only so much air. 
 (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 2 r.) 
 
 HOW FROM AGE TO AGE THE ART OF PAINTING CON- 
 TINUALLY DECLINES AND DETERIORATES WHEN 
 PAINTERS HAVE NO OTHER STANDARD THAN 
 WORK ALREADY DONE 
 
 The painter will produce pictures of little merit if he 
 takes the works of others as his standard; but if he will 
 apply himself to learn from the objects of nature he will 
 produce good results. This we see was the case with the 
 painters who came after the time of the Romans, for 
 they continually imitated each other, and from age to age 
 their art steadily declined. 
 
 After these came Giotto the Florentine, and he,— 
 reared in mountain solitudes, inhabited only by goats 
 and such like beasts—turning straight from nature to 
 his art, began to draw on the rocks the movements of 
 the goats which he was tending, and so began to draw 
 the figures of all the animals which were to be found in 
 the country, in such a way that after much study he not 
 only surpassed the masters of his own time but all those 
 of many preceding centuries, After him art again 
 declined, because all were imitating paintings already 
 done ; and so for centuries it continued to decline until 
 such time as Tommaso the Florentine, nicknamed 
 Masaccio, showed by the perfection of his work how 
 those who took as their standard anything other than 
 
THE LIFE OF THE PAINTER 165 
 
 nature, the supreme guide of all the masters, were 
 wearying themselves in vain. Similarly I would say as 
 to these mathematical subjects, that those who study only 
 the authorities and not the works of nature are in art 
 the grandsons and not the sons of nature, which is the 
 supreme guide of the good authorities. 
 
 Mark the supreme folly of those who censure such as 
 learn from nature, leaving uncensured the authorities who 
 were the disciples of this same nature ! (GWAR TA Iare 6.) 
 
 THE LIFE OF THE PAINTER IN THE COUNTRY 
 
 The painter requires such knowledge of mathematics 
 as belongs to painting, and severance from companions 
 who are not in sympathy with his studies, and his brain 
 should have the power of adapting itself to the tenor of 
 the objects which present themselves before it, and he 
 should be freed from all other cares. 
 
 And if while considering and examining one subject a 
 second should intervene, as happens when an object 
 occupies the mind, he ought to decide which of these 
 subjects presents greater difficulties in investigation, and 
 follow that until it becomes entirely clear, and afterwards 
 pursue the investigation of the other. And above all he 
 should keep his mind as clear as the surface of a mirror, 
 which becomes changed to as many different colours as 
 are those of the objects within it, and his companions 
 should resemble him in a taste for these studies, and if 
 he fail to find any such he should accustom himself to 
 be alone in his investigations, for in the end he will find 
 no more profitable companionship. (CG. A. 184. 0. 6.) 
 
166 THE LIFE OF THE PAINTER 
 
 OF THE LIFE OF THE PAINTER IN HIS STUDIO. 
 
 The painter or draughtsman ought to be solitary in 
 order that the well-being of the body may not sap the 
 vigour of the mind, and more especially when he is 
 occupied with the consideration and investigation of 
 things which by being continually present before his 
 eyes furnish food to be treasured up in the memory. 
 
 If you are alone you belong entirely to yourself ; if you 
 are accompanied even by one companion you belong only 
 half to yourself, or even less in proportion to the thought- 
 lessness of his conduct ; and if you have more than one 
 companion you will fall more deeply into the same plight. 
 
 If you should say, ‘I will take my own course ; I will 
 retire apart, so that I may be the better able to investigate 
 the forms of natural objects,’ then I say this must needs 
 turn out badly, for you will not be able to prevent your- 
 self from often lending an ear to their chatter ; and not 
 being able to serve two masters, you will discharge 
 badly the duty of companionship and even worse that 
 of endeavouring to realise your conceptions in art. 
 
 But suppose you say, ‘I will withdraw so far apart 
 that their words shall not reach me nor in any way dis- 
 turb me,’ I reply that in this case you will be looked 
 upon as mad, and bear in mind that in so doing you 
 will then be solitary. 
 
 If you must have companionship choose it from your 
 studio ; it may then help you to obtain the advantages 
 which result from different methods of study. All 
 other companionship may prove extremely harmful. 
 
 (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 27 v. and r.) 
 
THE PROVINCE OF THE PAINTER 167 
 
 HOW THE PAINTER IS NOT WORTHY OF PRAISE 
 UNLESS HE IS UNIVERSAL 
 
 We may frankly admit that certain people deceive 
 themselves who apply the title ‘a good master’ to a 
 painter who can only do the head or the figure well. 
 Surely it is no great achievement if by studying one 
 thing only during his whole lifetime he attain to some 
 degree of excellence therein! But since, as we know, 
 painting embraces and contains within itself all the things 
 which nature produces or which result from the fortui- 
 tous actions of men, and in short whatever can be com- 
 prehended by the eyes, it would seem to me that he is 
 but a poor master who only makes a single figure well. 
 For do you not see how many and how varied are the 
 actions which are performed by men alone? Do you 
 not see how many different kinds of animals there are, 
 and also of trees and plants and flowers? What variety 
 of hilly and level places, of springs, rivers, cities, public 
 and private buildings ; of instruments fitted for man’s 
 use; of divers costumes, ornaments, and arts ?— 
 Things which should be rendered with equal facility 
 and grace by whoever you wish to call a good painter. 
 
 (MS. 2038, Bid. Nat. 25 v.) 
 
 HOW THE MIRROR IS THE MASTER OF PAINTERS 
 
 When you wish to see whether the general effect of 
 your picture corresponds with that of the object repre- 
 sented after nature, take a mirror and set it so that it 
 reflects the actual thing, and then compare the reflec- 
 tion with your picture, and: consider carefully whether 
 
168 THE MIRROR A TEST OF PAINTING 
 
 the subject of the two images is in conformity with both, 
 studying especially the mirror. The mirror ought to 
 be taken as a guide,—that is the flat mirror—for within 
 its surface substances have many points of resemblance 
 to a picture; namely that you see the picture made 
 upon one plane showing things which appear in relief, 
 and the mirror upon one plane does the same. The 
 picture is one single surface, and the mirror is the same. 
 The picture is intangible, inasmuch as what appears 
 round and detached cannot be enclosed within the hands, 
 and the mirror is the same. The mirror and the pic- 
 ture present the images of things surrounded by shadow 
 and light, and each alike seems to project considerably 
 from the plane of its surface. And since you know 
 that the mirror presents detached things to you by 
 means of outlines and shadows and lights, and since 
 you have moreover amongst your colours more power- 
 ful shadows and lights than those of the mirror, it is 
 certain that if you but know well how to compose your 
 picture it will also seem a natural thing seen in a great 
 mirror. | (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 24 v.) 
 
 Painters oftentimes deceive themselves by representing 
 water in which they render visible what is seen by 
 man ; whereas the water sees the object from one side 
 and the man sees it from the other; and it frequently 
 happens that the painter will see a thing from above 
 and the water sees it from beneath, and so the same 
 body is seen in front and behind, and above and below, 
 for the water reflects the image of the object in one 
 way and the eye sees it in another. (C. A. 354 0. 2.) 
 
DIRECTIONS FOR STUDY 169 
 
 OF JUDGING YOUR OWN PICTURE 
 
 We know well that mistakes are more easily detected 
 in the works of others than in one’s own, and that often- 
 times while censuring the small faults of others you will 
 overlook your own great faults. In order to avoid 
 such ignorance make yourself first of all a master of 
 perspective, then gain a complete knowledge of the pro- 
 portions of man and other animals, and also make 
 yourself a good architect, that is in so far as concerns 
 the form of the buildings and of the other things which 
 are upon the earth, which are infinite in form ; and the 
 more knowledge you have of these the more will your 
 work be worthy of praise ; and for those things in which 
 you have no practice do not disdain to draw from nature. 
 But to return to what has been promised above, I say 
 that when you are painting you should take a flat mirror 
 and often look at your work within it, and it will then 
 be seen in reverse, and will appear to be by the hand of 
 some other master, and you will be better able to judge 
 of its faults than in any other way. It is also a good 
 plan every now and then to go away and have a little 
 relaxation ; for then when you come back to the work 
 your judgment will be surer, since to remain constantly 
 at work will cause you to lose the power of judgment. 
 It is also advisable to go some distance away, because 
 then the work appears smaller, and more of it is taken 
 in at a glance, and a lack of harmony or proportion in 
 the various parts and in the colours of the objects is 
 more readily seen. (MS. 2038, Bib, Nat. 28 r.) 
 
170 THE PROVINCE OF THE PAINTER 
 
 OF VARIETY 1N FIGURES 
 
 The painter ought to strive at being universal, for 
 there is a great lack of dignity in doing one thing 
 well and another badly, like many who study only the 
 measurements and proportions of the nude figure and 
 do not seek after its variety ; for a man may be properly 
 proportioned and yet be fat and short or long and thin, 
 or medium. And whoever does not take count of these 
 varieties will always make his figures in one mould so 
 
 that they will all appear sisters, and this practice deserves 
 severe censure. 
 
 OF THE ORDER OF ACQUIRING THIS UNIVERSALITY 
 
 It is an easy matter for whoever knows how to re- 
 present man to afterwards acquire this universality, for 
 all the animals which live upon the earth resemble each 
 other in their limbs, that is in muscles, sinews, and 
 bones, and they do not vary at all, except in length 
 or thickness as will be shown in the Anatomy. There 
 are also the aquatic animals, of which there are many 
 different kinds ; and with regard to these I do not advise 
 the painter to make a fixed standard, for they are of 
 almost infinite variety; and the same is also true of 
 the insect world. (G 5 2.) 
 
 HOW THE PAINTER OUGHT TO BE DESIROUS OF HEAR- 
 ING EVERY MAN’S OPINION AS TO THE PROGRESS 
 OF HIS WORK 
 
 Surely when a man is painting a picture he ought not 
 to refuse to hear any man’s opinion, for we know very 
 
OF CRITICISM 1971 
 
 well that though a man may not be a painter, he has 
 a true conception of the form of another man and will 
 judge aright whether he is hump-backed or has one 
 shoulder high or low, or whether he has a large mouth 
 or nose or other defects. 
 
 Since then we recognise that men are able to form a 
 true judgment as to the works of nature, how much the 
 more does it behove us to admit that they are able to 
 judge our faults. For you know how much a man is 
 deceived in his own works, and if you do not recognise 
 this in your own case observe it in others and then you 
 will profit by their mistakes. Therefore you should be 
 desirous of hearing patiently the opinions of others, and 
 consider and reflect carefully whether or no he who 
 censures you has reason for his censure; and correct 
 your work if you find that he is right, but if not, then 
 let it seem that you have not understood him, or—in 
 case he is a man whom you esteem—show him by 
 argument why it 1s that he is mistaken. 
 
 (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 26 r.) 
 
 HOW IN WORKS OF IMPORTANCE A MAN SHOULD NOT 
 TRUST SO ENTIRELY TO HIS MEMORY AS TO DISDAIN 
 TO DRAW FROM NATURE 
 
 Any master who let it be understood that he could 
 himself recall all the forms and effects of nature would 
 certainly appear to me to be endowed with great 
 ignorance, considering that these effects are infinite and 
 that our memory is not of so great capacity as to suffice 
 thereto. Do you therefore, O Painter, take care lest the 
 
172 OF METHODS OF STUDY 
 
 greed for gain prove a stronger incentive than renown 
 in art, for to gain this renown is a far greater thing than 
 is the renown of riches. For these, then, and other 
 reasons which might be given, you should apply yourself 
 first of all to drawing in order to present to the eye in 
 visible form the purpose and invention created originally 
 in your imagination ; then proceed to take from or add 
 to it until you satisfy yourself ; then have men arranged 
 as models draped or nude in the way in which you have 
 disposed them in your work ; and make the proportions 
 and size in accordance with perspective, so that no part 
 of the work remains that is not so counselled by reason 
 and by the effects in nature. And this will be the way 
 to make yourself renowned in your art. 
 
 (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 26 r.) 
 
 OF STUDYING AS SOON AS YOU ARE AWAKE OR BEFORE 
 YOU GO TO SLEEP IN BED IN THE DARK 
 
 I have proved in my own case that it is of no small 
 benefit on finding oneself in bed in the dark to go 
 over again in the imagination the main outlines of the 
 forms previously studied, or of other noteworthy things 
 conceived by ingenious speculation; and this exercise is 
 entirely to be commended, and it is useful in fixing 
 things in the memory. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 26 r.) 
 
 A WAY TO STIMULATE AND AROUSE THE MIND TO 
 VARIOUS INVENTIONS 
 
 I will not refrain from setting among these precepts 
 
OF DEVICES FOR PAINTERS 173 
 
 a new device for consideration which, although it may 
 appear trivial and almost ludicrous, is nevertheless of 
 great utility in arousing the mind to various inventions. 
 And this is that if you look at any walls spotted with 
 various stains or with a mixture of different kinds of 
 stones, if you are about to invent some scene you will 
 be able to see in it a resemblance to various different 
 landscapes adorned with mountains, rivers, rocks, trees, 
 plains, wide valleys, and various groups of hills. You 
 will also be able to see divers combats and figures in 
 quick movement, and strange expressions of faces, and 
 outlandish costumes, and an infinite number of things 
 which you can then reduce into separate and well con- 
 ceived forms. With such walls and blends of different 
 stones it comes about as it does with the sound of bells, 
 in whose clanging you may discover every name and 
 word that you can imagine. 
 
 (MS. 2038, Bid. Nat. 22 0.) 
 
 OF THE GAMES IN WHICH DRAUGHTSMEN 
 SHOULD INDULGE 
 
 When you draughtsmen wish to find some profitable 
 recreation in games you should always practise things 
 which may be of use in your profession, that is by 
 giving your eye accuracy of judgment so that it may 
 know how to estimate the truth as to the length and 
 breadth of objects. So in order to accustom the mind 
 to such things let one of you draw a straight line any- 
 where on a wall, and then let each of you take a light 
 
174 OF THE TIME FOR STUDY 
 
 rush or straw in his hand, and let each cut his own to 
 the length which the first line appears to him when he 
 is distant from it a space of ten braccia, and then let 
 each go up to the copy in order to measure it against 
 the length which he has judged it to be, and he whose 
 measure comes nearest to the ‘length of the copy has 
 done best and is the winner, and he should receive from 
 all the prize which was previously agreed upon by 
 you. Furthermore you should take measurements fore- 
 shortened, that is, you should take a spear or some other 
 stick and look before you to a certain point of distance, 
 and then let each set himself to reckon how many times 
 this measure is contained in the said distance. Another 
 thing is to see who can draw the best line one braccio in 
 length, and this may be tested by tightly drawn thread. 
 Diversions such as these enable the eye to acquire 
 accuracy of judgment, and this‘is the primary essential 
 of painting. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 26 v.) 
 
 Painters have a good opportunity of observing actions 
 in players, especially at ball or tennis or with the mallet 
 when they are contending together, better indeed than 
 in any other place or exercise. (I 48 &.) 
 
 OF THE PROPER TIME FOR STUDYING THE SELECTION 
 OF SUBJECTS 
 
 The winter evenings should be spent by youthful 
 students in study of the things prepared during the 
 summer ; that is, all the drawings from the nude which 
 you have made in the summer should be brought 
 
OF THE APTITUDE FOR PAINTING 175 
 
 together, and you should make a choice from among 
 them of the best limbs and bodies and practise at these 
 and learn them by heart. 
 
 OF ATTITUDES 
 
 Afterwards in the ensuing summer you should make 
 choice of some one who has a good presence, and has 
 not been brought up to wear doublets, and whose figure 
 consequently has not lost its natural bearing, and make 
 him go through various graceful and elegant movements. 
 If he fails to show the muscles very clearly within the 
 outlines of the limbs, this is of no consequence. It is 
 enough for you merely to obtain good attitudes from 
 the figure, and you can correct the limbs by those which 
 you have studied during the winter. 
 
 (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 27 r.) 
 
 AN INDICATION WHETHER A YOUTH HAS AN APTITUDE 
 FOR PAINTING 
 
 There are many men who have a desire and love for 
 drawing but no aptitude for it, and this can be discerned 
 in children if they are not diligent and never finish their 
 copies with shading. 
 
 The painter is not worthy of praise who only does 
 one thing well, as the nude, or a head, or draperies, or 
 animal life, or landscapes, or such other special subject, 
 for there is no one so dull of understanding that after 
 devoting himself to one subject only and continually 
 practising at this, he will fail to do it well. 
 
 (G.25\73) 
 
176 PRECEPTS OF PAINTING 
 
 PAINTING 
 
 Men and words are actual, and you, painter, if you 
 do not know how to execute your figures, will be 
 like an orator who does not know how to use his 
 words. (K 110 [30] »v.) 
 
 The painter who draws by practice and judgment of 
 the eye without the use of reason, is like the mirror 
 which reproduces within itself all the objects which are 
 
 set opposite to it without knowledge of the same. 
 (C. 4. 76 4. a.) 
 
 THIS RULE OUGHT TO BE GIVEN TO CHILDREN 
 WHO PAINT 
 
 We know clearly that the sight is one of the swiftest 
 actions that can exist, for in the same instant it surveys 
 an infinite number of forms; nevertheless it can only 
 comprehend one thing at atime. To take an instance : 
 you, O Reader, might at a glance look at the whole of 
 this written page and you would instantly decide that 
 it is full of various letters, but you will not recognise 
 in this space of time either what letters they are or what 
 they purport to say, and therefore it is necessary for you 
 if you wish to gain a knowledge of these letters to take 
 them word by word and line by line. Again, if you 
 wish to go up to the summit of a building it will be 
 necessary for you to ascend step by step, otherwise it 
 will be impossible to reach the top. So I say to you 
 whom nature inclines to this art, if you would have a 
 true knowledge of the forms of different objects you 
 
PRECEPTS OF PAINTING 177 
 
 should commence with their details and not pass or to” 
 the second until the first is well in your memory and 
 you have practised it. If you do otherwise you will be 
 throwing away time, and to a certainty you will greatly 
 prolong the period of study. And remember to acquire 
 
 diligence rather than facility. 
 (MS, 2038, Bid. Nat. 28 r.) 
 
 HOW ONE OUGHT FIRST TO LEARN DILIGENCE RATHER 
 THAN RAPID EXECUTION 
 
 If as draughtsman you wish to study well and pro- 
 fitably, accustom yourself when you are drawing to work 
 slowly, and to determine between the various lights 
 which possess the highest degree of brightness and in 
 what measure, and similarly as to the shadows which are 
 those that are darker than the rest, and in what manner 
 they mingle together, and to compare their dimensions 
 one with another ; and so with the contours to observe 
 which way they are tending, and as to the lines what 
 part of each is curved in one way or another, and where 
 they are more or less conspicuous and consequently thick 
 or fine; and lastly to see that your shadows and lights 
 may blend without strokes or lines in the manner of 
 smoke. And when you shall have trained your hand 
 and judgment with this degree of care, it will speedily 
 come to pass that you will have no need to take thought 
 thereto. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 27 2.) 
 
 OF THE ORDER TO BE OBSERVED IN STUDY 
 
 I say that one ought first to learn about the limbs 
 and how they are worked, and after having completed 
 | i | 
 
178 OF METHODS OF STUDY 
 
 this knowledge one ought to study their actions in the 
 different conditions in which men are placed, and thirdly 
 to devise figure compositions, the studies for these being 
 taken from natural actions made on occasion as oppor- 
 tunities offered, and one should be on the watch in the 
 streets and squares and fields, and there make sketches 
 with rapid strokes to represent features, that is for a 
 head one may make an 0, and for an arm a straight or 
 curved line, and so in like manner for the legs and 
 trunk, afterwards when back at home working up these 
 notes in a completed form. 
 
 My opponent says that in order to gain experience 
 and to learn how to work readily, it is better that the 
 first period of study should be spent in copying various 
 compositions made by different masters either on sheets 
 of paper or on walls, since from these one acquires 
 rapidity in execution and a good method. But to this 
 it may be replied that the ensuing method would be 
 good if it was founded upon works that were excellent 
 in composition and by diligent masters ; and since such 
 masters are so rare that few are to be found, it is safer 
 to go direct to the works of nature than to those 
 which have been imitated from her originals with great 
 deterioration and thereby to acquire a bad method, 
 for he who has access to the fountain does not go to 
 the water-pot. (C. A. 199 2. 2.) 
 
 THE ORDER OF LEARNING TO DRAW 
 
 First of all copy drawings by a good master made by 
 his art from nature and not as exercises; then from a 
 
HOW TO STUDY FACES 179 
 
 relief, keeping by you a drawing done from the same 
 relief ; then from a good model, and of this you ought 
 
 to make a practice. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 33 r.) 
 
 OF THE WAY TO FIX IN YOUR MIND THE FORM 
 OF A FACE 
 
 If you desire to acquire facility in keeping in your 
 mind the expression of a face, first learn by heart the 
 various different kinds of heads, eyes, noses, mouths, 
 chins, throats, and also necks and shoulders. To take 
 as an instance noses. They are of ten types: straight, 
 bulbous, deep-set, prominent either above or below the 
 centre, aquiline, regular, ape-like, round, and pointed. 
 These divisions hold good as regards profile. Seen from 
 in front.noses are of twelve types: thick in the middle, 
 thin in the middle, with the tip broad and narrow at the 
 base, or narrow at the tip and broad at the base, with 
 nostrils broad or narrow, or high or low, and with the 
 openings either distended or hidden by the tip. And 
 similarly you ‘will find variety in the other features ; of 
 which things you ought to make studies from nature and 
 so fix them in your mind. Or when you have to draw 
 a face from memory, carry with you a small note-book 
 in which you have noted down such features, and then 
 when you have cast a glance at the face of the person 
 whom you wish to draw, you can then look privately 
 and see which nose or mouth has a resemblance to it, 
 and make a tiny mark against it in order to recognise 
 it again at home. Of monstrous faces I here say 
 
 nothing, for they are kept 1n mind without difficulty. 
 (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 26 v.) 
 
180 OF FACES AND LIMBS 
 
 OF THE PARTS OF THE FACE 
 
 If nature had only one fixed standard for the propor- 
 tions of the various parts, then the faces of all men | 
 would resemble each other to such a degree that it would 
 be impossible to distinguish one from another ; but she 
 has varied the five parts of the face in such a way that 
 although she has made an almost universal standard as 
 to their size she has not observed it in the various con- 
 ditions to such a degree as to prevent one from being 
 clearly distinguished from another. (C. A. 119 % 4.) 
 
 OF THE ARRANGEMENT OF THE LIMBS 
 
 As regards the arrangement of the limbs, you should 
 bear in mind that when you wish to represent one who 
 by some chance has either to turn backwards or on one 
 side you must not make him move his feet and all his 
 limbs in the same direction as he turns his head; but 
 you should show the process spreading itself and taking 
 effect over the four sets of joints, namely those of the 
 foot, the knee, the hip, and the neck. And if you let 
 his weight rest on the right leg, you should make the 
 knee of the left bend inwards ; and the foot of it should 
 be slightly raised on the outside, and the left shoulder 
 should be somewhat lower than the right; and the nape 
 of the neck should be exactly above the outer curve of 
 the ankle of the left foot, and the left shoulder should 
 be above the toe of the right foot in a perpendicular 
 line. And always so dispose your figures that the 
 direction in which the head is turned is not that in 
 which the breast faces, since nature has for our con- 
 
OF LIMBS 181 
 
 venience so formed the neck that it can easily serve the 
 different occasions on which the eye desires to turn in 
 various directions; and to this same organ the other 
 joints are in part: responsive. And if ever you show a 
 man sitting with his hands at work upon something by 
 
 his side, make the chest turn upon the hip-joints. 
 (M8. 2038, Bib, Nat. 30 oe 
 
 OF PAINTING 
 
 If you have to represent a man either as moving or 
 lifting or pulling or carrying a weight equal to his own 
 
 weight how ought you to fit the legs under his body ? 
 (C. A. 349 7. 4) 
 
 OF THE CONFORMITY OF THE LIMBS 
 
 Further I remind you to pay great attention in giving 
 limbs to your figures so that they may not merely appear 
 to harmonise with the size of the body but also with 
 its age. So the limbs of youths should have few muscles 
 and veins, and have a soft surface and be rounded and 
 pleasing in colour; in men they should be sinewy and 
 full of muscles; in old men the surface should be 
 wrinkled, and rough and covered with veins, and with 
 the sinews greatly protruding. 
 
 HOW LITTLE CHILDREN HAVE THEIR JOINTS THE RE- 
 VERSE OF THOSE OF MEN IN THEIR THICKNESS 
 
 Little children have all the joints slender while the 
 intervening parts are thick ; and this is due to the fact 
 that the joints are only covered by skin and there is no 
 
182 OF LIMBS 
 
 flesh at all over them, and this skin acts as a sinew to gird 
 and bind together the bones ; and a flabby layer of flesh 
 is found between one joint and the next shut in between 
 the skin andthe bone. But since the bones are thicker at 
 the joints than between them, the flesh as the man grows 
 up loses that superfluity which existed between the skin 
 and the bone, and so the skin is drawn nearer to the bone 
 and causes the limbs to seem more slender. But since 
 there is nothing above the joints except cartilaginous 
 and sinewy skin this cannot dry up, and not being dried 
 up it does not shrink. So for these reasons the limbs of 
 children are slender at the joints and thick between the 
 joints, as is seen in the joints of the fitgers, arms, and 
 shoulders which are slender and have great dimples ; and 
 aman on the contrary has all the joints of fingers, arms, 
 and legs thick, and where children have hollows men have 
 the joints protruding. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 28 2.) 
 
 OF THE GRACE OF THE LIMBS 
 
 The limbs should fit the body gracefully in harmony 
 with the effect you wish the figure to produce; and if 
 you desire to create a figure which shall possess a charm 
 of its own, you should make it with limbs graceful and 
 extended, without showing too many of the muscles, 
 and the few which your purpose requires you to show 
 indicate briefly, that is without giving them prominence 
 and with the shadows not sharply defined, and the limbs, 
 and especially the arms, should be easy, that is that no 
 limb should be in a straight line with the part that ad- 
 joins it. And if the hips, which form as it were the 
 poles of the man, are by his position placed so that the 
 
OF THE MUSCLES 183 
 
 rignt is higher than the left, you should make the top 
 shoulder joint so that a line drawn from it perpendicu- 
 larly falls on the most prominent part of the hip, and 
 let this right shoulder be lower than the left. And let 
 the hollow of the throat always be exactly over the 
 middle of the joint of the foot which is resting on the 
 ground. The leg which does not support the weight 
 should have its knee below the other and near to the 
 other leg. 
 
 The positions of the head and arms are numberless, 
 and therefore I will not attempt to give any rule; it 
 will suffice that they should be natural and pleasing and 
 should bend and turn in various ways, with the joints 
 moving freely so that they may not seem like pieces of 
 wood. (MS. 2038, Bib. Vat. 29 2.) 
 
 PAINTING 
 
 O painter skilled in anatomy, beware lest the undue 
 prominence of the bones, sinews, and muscles cause you 
 to become a wooden painter from the desire to make 
 your nude figures reveal all their emotions. And if you 
 wish to remedy this you should consider in what way the 
 muscles of old or lean persons cover or clothe the bones, 
 and futhermore note the principle on which these same 
 muscles fill up the spaces of the surface which come 
 between them, and which are the muscles that never 
 lose their prominence in any degree of fatness what- 
 soever, and which those whereof the tendons become 
 indistinguishable at the least suggestion of it. And 
 there are many cases when several muscles grow to look 
 one from the increase of fat, and many in which when 
 
184 OF THE MUSCLES 
 
 any one becomes lean or old a single muscle divides into 
 several ; and in this treatise all their peculiarities shall 
 be set forth each in its place, and especially with regard 
 to the spaces that come between the joints of each limb. 
 Further you should not fail to observe the variations 
 of the aforesaid muscles round the joints of the limbs 
 of any animal, due to the diversity of the movements of 
 each limb ; for on any side of these joints the indication 
 of these muscles becomes completely lost by reason - 
 either of the increase or diminution of the flesh of which 
 these muscles are composed. 7 (E19 0.) 
 
 OF PAINTING 
 
 It is a necessary thing for the painter in order to be 
 able to fashion the limbs correctly in the positions and 
 actions which they can represent in the nude, to know 
 the anatomy of the sinews, bones, muscles and tendons 
 in order to know in the various different movements 
 and impulses which sinew or muscle is the cause of each 
 movement, and to make only these prominent and 
 thickened, and not the others all over the limb, as do 
 many who in order to appear great draughtsmen make 
 their nudes wooden and without grace, so that it seems 
 rather as if you were looking at a sack of nuts than a 
 human form or at a bundle of radishes rather than the 
 muscles of nudes, | by (L79r.) 
 
 HOW IT IS NECESSARY FOR THE PAINTER TO KNOW 
 THE INNER STRUCTURE OF MAN 
 
 The painter who has acquired a knowledge of the 
 nature of the sinews, muscles, and tendons will know 
 
OF DRAPERIES 185 
 
 exactly in the movement of any limb how many, and 
 which of the sinews are the cause of it, and which muscle 
 by its swelling is the cause of this sinew contracting, and 
 which sinews having been changed into most delicate 
 cartilage surround and contain the said muscle. So he 
 will be able in divers ways and universally to indicate 
 the various muscles by means of the different attitudes 
 of his figures ; and he will not do like many who in 
 different actions always make the same things appear in 
 the arm, the back, the breast, and the legs ; for such 
 things as these ought not to rank in the category of 
 minor faults. (MS. 2038, 27 r.) 
 
 OF THE NATURE OF THE FOLDS OF DRAPERIES 
 
 That part of the fold which is furthest from the ends 
 where it is confined will return most closely to its 
 original form. Everything naturally desires to remain 
 in its own state. Drapery being of uniform density 
 and thickness on the reverse and on the right side, 
 desires to lie flat; consequently, whenever any folds or 
 pleats force it to quit this condition of flatness, it obeys 
 the law of this force in that part of itself where it is 
 most constrained, and the part furthest away from such 
 constraint you will find return most nearly to its original 
 
 state, that is to say, lying extended and full. 
 (MS. 2038, Bid. Nat. 4 7.) 
 
 How one ought not to give drapery a confusion of 
 many folds, but only make them where it is held by the 
 hands or arms, and the rest may be suffered to fall simply 
 where its nature draws it: and do not let the contour 
 
186 CF DRAPERIES 
 
 of the figure be broken by too many lines or interrupted 
 folds. 
 
 How draperies should be drawn from nature : that is, 
 if you wish to represent woollen cloth draw the folds 
 from the same material, and if it is to be silk, or fine 
 cloth, or homespun, or of linen, or crape, show the 
 different nature of the folds in each; and do not make 
 a costume as many make it from models covered with 
 pieces of paper or thin leather, for you will be deceiving 
 yourself greatly. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 17 v.) 
 
 OF THE FEW FOLDS IN DRAPERIES 
 
 How figures when dressed in a cloak ought not to 
 show the shape to such an extent that the cloak seems 
 to be next to the flesh ; for surely you would not wish 
 that the cloak should be next the flesh since you must 
 realise that between the cloak and the flesh are other 
 garments which prevent the shape of the limbs from 
 being ‘visible and appearing through the cloak. And 
 those limbs which you make visible make thick of their 
 kind so that there may seem to be other garments there 
 under the cloak. And you should only allow the almost 
 identical thickness of the limbs to be visible in a nymph 
 or an angel, for these are represented clad in light 
 draperies, which by the blowing of the wind are driven 
 and pressed against the various limbs of the figures. 
 
 (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 18 r.) 
 
 OF PAINTING 
 
 In order to produce the same effect of action in a 
 picture on the part of an old man and a young, you 
 
PLATE 8 
 
 STUDY OF DRAPERY OF KNEELING FIGURE 
 
 Face p. 186 
 
PRECEPTS OF PAINTING 187 
 
 must make the action of the young man appear more 
 vigorous in proportion as he is more powerful than the 
 old man, and you will make the same difference between 
 a young man and an infant. (C. A. 349 r. 6.) 
 
 Let the movements of men be such as are in keeping 
 with their dignity or meanness. (C. A. 345 v. 4.) 
 
 Make your work to be in keeping with your purpose 
 and design ; that is, when you make your figure you 
 should consider carefully who it is and what you wish it 
 
 to be doing. (C. A. 349 r. 5.) 
 
 PRECEPTS OF PAINTING 
 
 Let the sketches for historical subjects be rapid, and 
 the working of the limbs not too much finished. Con- 
 tent yourself with merely giving the positions of these 
 limbs which you will then be able at your leisure to 
 finish as you please. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 8 2.) 
 
 The youth ought first to learn perspective, then the 
 proportions of everything, then he should learn from the 
 hand of a good master in order to accustom himself to. 
 good limbs; then from nature in order to confirm for 
 himself the reasons for what he has learnt ; then for a 
 time he should study the work of different masters: 
 then make it a habit to practise and work at his art. 
 
 How the first picture was nothing but a line which 
 surrounded the shadow of a man made by the sun upon 
 a wall. 
 
 How historical pictures ought not to be crowded and 
 confused by many figures. 
 
 How old men should be shown with slow, listless 
 
188 OF GROUPS OF FIGURES 
 
 movements, with the legs bent at the knees when they 
 are standing up, with the feet parallel and separated one 
 from another, the spine bent low, the head leaning 
 forward, and the arms not too far apart. 
 
 How women should be represented in modest atti- 
 tudes, with legs close together, arms folded, and with 
 their heads low and bending sideways. 
 
 How old women should be represented as bold, with 
 swift, passionate movements like the infernal furies, and 
 these movements should seem quicker in the arms and 
 heads than in the legs. 
 
 Little children should be represented when sitting as 
 twisting themselves about with quick movements, and in 
 
 shy, timid attitudes when standing up. 
 (MS. 2038, Bid. Nat. 17 2.) 
 
 OF THE METHOD OF LEARNING ARIGHT HOW TO COMPOSE 
 GROUPS OF FIGURES IN HISTORICAL PICTURES 
 
 When you have thoroughly learnt perspective, and 
 have fixed in your memory all the various parts and 
 forms of things, you should often amuse yourself when 
 you take a walk for recreation, in watching and taking 
 note of the attitudes and actions of men as they talk and 
 dispute, or laugh or come to blows one with another, 
 both their actions and those of the bystanders who either 
 intervene or stand looking on at these things; noting 
 these down with rapid strokes in this way, in a little 
 pocket-book, which you ought always to carry with you. 
 And let this be of tinted paper, so that it may not be 
 rubbed out ; but you should change the old for a new 
 
 1 Sketch of figure in text of MS. 
 
OF MURAL PAINTINGS 189 
 
 one, for these are not things to be rubbed out but 
 preserved with the utmost diligence; for there is such 
 an infinite number of forms and actions of things that 
 the memory is incapable of preserving them, and there- 
 fore you should keep those [sketches] as your patterns 
 and teachers. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 27 v. 
 
 WHY THE REPRESENTING OF GROUPS OF FIGURES ONE 
 ABOVE ANOTHER IS TO BE AVOIDED 
 
 This custom, which is universally adopted by painters 
 for the walls of chapels, is by right strongly to be 
 censured, seeing that they represent one composition at 
 one level with its landscape and buildings, and then 
 mount to the stage above it and make another, and so 
 vary the point of sight from that of the first painting, and 
 then make a third, and a fourth, in such a way that the 
 work on the one wall shows four points of sight, which 
 is the height of folly on the part of such masters. Now 
 we know that the point of sight is opposite the eye of 
 the spectator of the composition, and if you were to ask 
 me how I should represent the life of a saint when it is 
 divided up in several compositions on the same wall, to 
 this I reply that you ought to set the foreground with 
 its point of sight on a level with the eye of the spectators 
 of the composition, and at this same plane make the 
 chief episode on a large scale, and then by diminishing 
 gradually the figures and buildings upon the various hills 
 and plains, you should represent all the incidents of the 
 story. And on the rest of the wall up to the top you 
 should make trees large as compared with the figures, or 
 angels if these are appropriate to the story, or birds or 
 
190 OF PORTRAIT PAINTING 
 
 clouds or similar things; but otherwise do not put 
 yourself to the trouble for the whole of your work will 
 be wrong. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 16 r.) 
 
 OF THE CHOICE OF THE LIGHT WHICH GIVES 
 A GRACE TO FACES 
 
 If you have a courtyard which when you so please you 
 can cover over with a linen awning the light will then be 
 excellent. Or when you wish to paint a portrait paint 
 it in bad weather, at the fall of the evening, placing the 
 sitter with his back to one of the walls of the courtyard. 
 Notice in the streets at the fall of the evening the faces 
 of.the men and women when it is bad weather, what 
 grace and softness they display. Therefore, O painter, 
 you should have a courtyard fitted up with the walls 
 tinted in black and with the roof projecting forward. 
 a little beyond the wall; and the width of it should be 
 ten braccia, and the length twenty braccia, and the 
 height ten braccia; and you should cover it over with 
 the awning when the sun is on it, or else you should 
 make your portrait at the hour of the fall of the evening 
 when it is cloudy or misty, for the light then is perfect. 
 
 (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 20 v.) 
 
 OF THE CHOICE OF BEAUTIFUL FACES 
 
 Methinks it 1s no small grace in a painter to be able 
 to give a pleasing air to his figures, and whoever is not 
 naturally possessed of this grace may acquire it by study, 
 as opportunity offers, in the following manner. Be on 
 the watch to take the best parts of many beautiful faces 
 
OF LIMBS Ig 
 
 of which the beauty is established rather by general 
 repute than by your own judgment, for you may readily 
 deceive yourself by selecting such faces as bear.a re- 
 semblance to your own, for it would often seem that 
 such similarities please us; and if you were ugly you 
 would not select beautiful faces, and so you would be 
 creating ugly faces like many painters whose types often 
 resemble their master; so therefore choose the beautiful 
 ones as I have said, and fix them in your mind. 
 
 (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 27 1.) 
 
 OF THE ERROR WHICH IS COMMITTED IN JUDGING 
 AS TO THE LIMBS 
 
 The painter who has clumsy hands will reproduce the 
 same in his works, and the same thing will happen with 
 every limb unless long study prevents it. Do you then, 
 O painter, take careful note of that part in yourself which 
 is most mis-shapen, and apply yourself by study to 
 remedy this entirely. For if you are brutal, your figures 
 will be the same and devoid of grace, and in like manner 
 every quality that there is within you of good or of evil 
 will be in part revealed in your figures. (423 r.) 
 
 A picture or any representation of figures ought to 
 be done in such a way that those who see them may 
 be able with ease to recognise from their attitudes what 
 is passing through their minds. So if you have to 
 represent a man of good repute in the act of speaking, 
 make his gestures accord with the probity of his speech ; 
 and similarly if you have to represent a brutal man, 
 make him with fierce movements flinging out his arms 
 
192 | OF GESTURE 
 
 towards his hearer, and the head and chest protruding 
 forward beyond the feet should seem to accompany the 
 hands of the speaker. 
 
 Just so a deaf mute who sees two people talking, 
 although being himself deprived of the power of hearing, 
 is none the less able to divine from the movements and 
 gestures of the speakers the subject of their discussion. 
 
 I once saw in Florence a man who had become deaf, 
 who could not understand you if you spoke to him 
 loudly, while if you spoke softly without letting the 
 voice utter any sound, he understood you merely from 
 the movement of the lips. Perhaps, however, you will 
 say to me: ‘ But does not a man who speaks loudly move 
 his lips like one who speaks softly? And since the one 
 moves his lips like the other, will not the one be under- 
 stood like the other?’ As to this I leave the decision 
 to the test of experience. Set some one to speak softly 
 
 and then [loudly], and watch the lips! 
 (C. 4. 139 7.4.) 
 
 HOW A FIGURE IS NOT WORTHY OF PRAISE UNLESS SUCH 
 ACTION APPEARS IN IT AS SERVES TO EXPRESS THE 
 PASSION OF THE SOUL 
 
 That figure is most worthy of praise which by its 
 action best expresses the passion which animates it. 
 
 HOW ONE OUGHT TO REPRESENT AN ANGRY FIGURE 
 
 An angry figure should be represented seizing some 
 one by the hair and twisting his head down to the 
 ground, with one knee on his ribs, and with the right 
 
OF A NIGHT SCENE 193 
 
 arm and fist raised high up; let him have his hair 
 dishevelled, his eyebrows low and knit together, his 
 teeth clenched, the two corners of his mouth arched, 
 and the neck, which is all swollen and extended as he 
 bends over the foe, should be full of furrows. 
 
 HOW TO REPRESENT A MAN IN DESPAIR 
 
 A man who is in despair you should make turning 
 his knife against himself, and rending his garments with 
 his hands, and one of his hands should be in the act 
 of tearing open his wound. Make him with his feet 
 apart, his legs somewhat bent, and the whole body like- 
 wise bending to the ground, and with his hair torn and 
 streaming. } (M8, 2038, Bib, Nat. 29 2.) 
 
 OF THE WAY TO REPRESENT A NIGHT SCENE 
 
 Whatever is entirely deprived of light is all darkness. 
 When such is the condition of night, if you wish to re- 
 present a scene therein, you must arrange to introduce a 
 great fire there, and then the things which are nearest to 
 the fire will be more deeply tinged with its colour, for 
 whatever is nearest to the object partakes most fully 
 of its nature ; and making the fire of a reddish colour 
 you should represent all the things illuminated by it as 
 being also of a ruddy hue, while those which are farther 
 away from the fire should be dyed more deeply with 
 the black colour of the night. The figures which are 
 between you and the fire will appear dark against the 
 brightness of the flame, for that part of the object which 
 you perceive is coloured by the darkness of the night, 
 
 N 
 
194 OF AN ORATOR 
 
 and not by the brightness of the fire ; those which are 
 at the sides should be half in shadow and half in ruddy 
 light; and those visible beyond the edge of the flames 
 will all be lit up with ruddy light against a dark back- 
 ground. As for their actions, show those who are near 
 it, making a screen with hands and cloaks as a protection 
 against the unbearable heat, with faces turned away as 
 though on the point of flight; while of those further 
 away you should show a great number pressing their 
 hands upon their eyes, hurt by the intolerable glare. 
 (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 18 o.) 
 
 OF HOW TO REPRESENT SOME ONE WHO IS SPEAKING 
 AMONG A GROUP OF PERSONS 
 
 When you desire to represent any one speaking among 
 a group of persons you ought to consider first the 
 subject of which he has to treat, and how so to order 
 his actions that they may be in keeping with this sub- 
 ject. That is, if the subject be persuasive the actions 
 should serve this intention ; if it be one that needs to be 
 expounded under various heads, the speaker should take 
 a finger of his left hand between two fingers of his right, 
 keeping the two smaller ones closed,’ and let his face 
 be animated and turned towards the people, with mouth 
 slightly opened, so as to give the effect of speaking. 
 And if he is seated let him seem to be in the act of 
 raising himself more upright, with his head forward ; 
 and if you represent him standing, make him leaning 
 forward a little with head and shoulders towards the 
 
 1MS, has ‘serate.. M, Ravaisson-Mollien gives ‘ searate,’ and translates 
 as though it were ‘ separate,’ 
 
NOTES FOR «THE LAST SUPPER’ 195 
 
 populace, whom you should show silent and attentive, 
 and all watching the face ot the orator with gestures 
 of admiration. Show the mouths of some of the old 
 men with the corners pulled down in astonishment at 
 what they hear, drawing back the cheeks in many 
 furrows, with their eyebrows raised where they meet, 
 making many wrinkles on their foreheads; and show 
 some sitting with the fingers of their hands locked 
 together and clasping their weary knees, and others— ~ 
 decrepit old men—with one knee crossed over the other, 
 and one hand resting upon it which serves as a cup 
 for the other elbow, while the other hand supports the 
 bearded chin. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nar. 21 r.) 
 
 [NOTES FOR ‘THE LAST SUPPER | 
 
 One who was drinking has left the glass where it was 
 and turned his head towards the speaker. Another 
 twists the: fingers of his hands together and turns with 
 set brows to his companion. Another with his hands 
 spread open displays their palms and shrugs his shoulders 
 up towards his ears and gapes in astonishment. Another 
 is speaking in his neighbour’s ear, and he who listens 
 turns towards him and gives him hearing, holding in 
 one hand a knife, and in the other the bread half cut 
 through by the knife. Another, as he turns round 
 holding a knife in his hand, has upset with his hand a 
 glass which is upon the table. 
 
 Another rests his hands upon the table and watches, 
 Another blows out his mouth. Another bends forward 
 to see the speaker and makes a shade for his eyes with 
 chis hand. Another leans back behind the one who is 
 
196 OF A TEMPEST 
 
 bending forward, and sees the speaker between the wall 
 
 and him who bends forward. 
 (S. K. M. ti., 62 0. and 63 r.) 
 
 HOW TO REPRESENT A TEMPEST 
 
 If you wish to represent a tempest properly, consider 
 and set down exactly what are the results when the wind 
 blowing over the face of the sea and of the land lifts and 
 carries with it everything that is not immovable in the 
 general mass. And in order properly to represent this 
 tempest, you must first of all show the clouds, riven and 
 torn, swept along in the path of the wind, together with 
 storms of sand blown up from the sea shores, and 
 branches and leaves caught up by the irresistible fury 
 of the gale and scattered through the air, and with them 
 many other things of light weight. The trees and shrubs 
 should be bent to the ground, as though showing their 
 desire to follow the direction of the wind, with their 
 branches twisted out of their natural growth and their 
 leaves tossed and inverted. Of the men who are there, 
 some should have fallen and be lying wrapped round by 
 their garments and almost indistinguishable on account of 
 the dust, and those who are left standing should be behind 
 some tree with their arms thrown round it to prevent 
 the wind from dragging them away ; others should be 
 shown crouching on the ground, their hands over their 
 eyes because of the dust, their garments and hair stream- 
 ing in the wind. Let the sea be wild and tempestuous, and 
 between the crests of its waves it should be covered with 
 eddying foam, and the wind should carry the finer spray 
 through the stormy air after the manner of a thick and 
 
OF A BATTLE 197 
 
 all-enveloping mist. Of the ships that are there, some 
 you should show with sail rent and the shreds of it 
 flapping in the air in company with the broken halyards, 
 and some of the masts broken and gone by the board, 
 and the vessel itself lying disabled and broken by the 
 fury of the waves, with some of the crew shrieking and 
 clinging to the fragments of the wreck. You should 
 show the clouds, driven by the impetuous winds, hurled 
 against the high mountain tops, and there wreathing 
 and eddying like waves that beat upon the rocks; the 
 very air should strike terror through the murky darkness 
 occasioned therein by the dust and mist and thick clouds. 
 
 (MS. 2038, Bid. Nat. 21 r.) 
 
 THE WAY TO REPRESENT A BATTLE 
 
 Show first the smoke of the artillery mingled in the 
 air with the dust stirred up by the movement of the 
 horses and of the combatants. This process you should 
 express as follows: the dust, since it is made up of earth 
 and has weight, although by reason of its fineness it may 
 easily rise and mingle with the air, will nevertheless 
 readily fall down again, and the greatest height will be 
 attained by such part of it as is the finest, and this will 
 in consequence be the least visible and will seem almost 
 the colour of the air itself. 
 
 The smoke which is mingled with the dust-laden air 
 will as it rises to a certain height have more and more 
 the appearance of a dark cloud, at the summit of which 
 the smoke will be more distinctly visible than the dust. 
 The smoke will assume a bluish tinge, and the dust will 
 
198 OF A BATTLE 
 
 keep its natural colour. From the side whence the 
 light comes this mixture of air and smoke and dust will 
 seem far brighter than on the opposite side. 
 
 As for the combatants, the more they are in the midst 
 of this turmoil the less they will be visible, and the less 
 will be the contrast between their lights and shadows. 
 
 You should give a ruddy glow to the faces and the figures 
 and the air around them, and to the gunners and those near 
 to them, and this glow should grow fainter as it is further 
 away from its cause. The figures which are between 
 you and the light, if far away, will appear dark against 
 a light background, and the nearer their limbs are to the 
 ground the less will they be visible, for there the dust is 
 greater and thicker. And if you make horses galloping © 
 away from the throng make little clouds of dust as far 
 distant one from another as is the space between the 
 strides made by the horse, and that cloud which is further 
 away from the horse should be the least visible, for it 
 should be high and spread out and thin, while that which 
 is nearer should be more conspicuous and smaller and 
 more compact. 
 
 Let the air be full of arrows going in various direc- 
 tions, some mounting upwards, others falling, others 
 flying horizontally, and let the balls shot from the guns 
 have a train of smoke following their course. Show the 
 figures in the foreground covered with dust on their 
 hair and eyebrows and such other level parts as afford 
 the dust a space to lode. 
 
 Make the conquerors running, with their hair and 
 other light things streaming in the wind, and with brows 
 bent down; and they should be thrusting forward 
 
OF A BATTLE 199 
 
 opposite limbs, that is, if a man advances the right foot 
 the left arm should also come forward. If you represent 
 any one fallen you should show the mark where he has 
 been dragged through the dust, which has become 
 changed to blood-stained mire, and round about in the 
 half-liquid earth you should show the marks of the 
 tramping of men and horses who have passed over it. 
 Make a horse dragging the dead body of his master, and 
 leaving behind him in the dust and mud the track of 
 where the body was dragged along. 
 
 Make the beaten and conquered pallid, with brows 
 raised and knit together, and let the skin above the 
 brows be all full of lines of pain ; at the sides of the 
 nose show the furrows going in an arch from the nostrils 
 and ending where the eye begins, and show the dilation 
 of the nostrils which is the cause of these lines ; and let 
 the lips be arched displaying the upper row of teeth, 
 and let the teeth be parted after the manner of such as 
 cry in lamentation. Show some one using his hand as 
 a shield for his terrified eyes, turning the palm of it 
 towards the enemy, and having the other resting on the 
 ground to support the weight of his body; let others be 
 crying out with their mouths wide open, and fleeing 
 away. Put all sorts of arms lying between the feet of 
 the combatants, such as broken shields, lances, broken 
 swords, and other things like these. Make the dead, 
 some half buried in dust, others with the dust all mingled 
 with the oozing blood and changing into crimson mud ; 
 and let the line of the blood be discerned by its colour, 
 flowing in a sinuous stream from the corpse to the dust. 
 Show others in the death agony grinding their teeth and 
 
200 OF A BATTLE 
 
 rolling their eyes, with clenched fists grinding against 
 their bodies, and with legs distorted. Then you might 
 show one, disarmed and struck down by the enemy, 
 turning on him with teeth and nails to take fierce and 
 inhuman vengeance; and let a riderless horse be seen 
 galloping with mane streaming in the wind, charging 
 among the enemy and doing them great mischief with 
 his heels. You may see there one of the combatants 
 maimed and fallen on the ground protecting himself with 
 his shield, and the enemy bending down over him and 
 striving to give him the fatal stroke; there might also 
 be seen many men fallen in a heap on top of a dead 
 horse ; and you should show some of the victors leaving 
 the combat and retiring apart from the crowd, and with 
 both hands wiping away from eyes and cheeks the thick 
 layer of mud caused by the smarting of their eyes from 
 the dust." And the squadrons of the reserves should be 
 seen standing full of hope but cautious, with eyebrows 
 raised, and shading their eyes with their hands, peering 
 into the thick, heavy mist in readiness for the commands 
 of their captain; and so too the captain with his staff 
 raised, hurrying to the reserves and pointing out to them 
 the quarter of the field where they are needed ; and you 
 should show a river, within which horses are galloping, 
 stirring the water all around with a heaving mass of 
 waves and foam and broken water, leaping high into the 
 air and over the legs and bodies of the horses; but see 
 that you make no level spot of ground that is not 
 trampled over with blood. 
 
 (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 31 r. and 30 2.) 
 
 1 MS. has ‘ per lamor della polvere.” 
 
OF A DELUGE 201 
 
 REPRESENTATION OF A DELUGE 
 
 The air was dark from the heavy rain which was 
 falling slantwise bent by the cross current of the winds 
 and formed itself in waves in the air, like those one sees 
 formed by the dust, the only difference being that these 
 drifts were furrowed by the lines made by the drops of 
 the falling water. It was tinged by the colour of 
 the fire produced by the thunderbolts wherewith the 
 clouds were rent and torn asunder, the flashes from 
 which smote and tore open the vast waters of the flooded 
 valleys, and as these lay open there were revealed in their 
 depths * the bowed summits of the trees. 
 
 Neptune might be seen with his trident in the midst 
 of the waters, and Eolus with his winds should be shown 
 entangling the floating trees which had been uprooted 
 and were mingled with the mighty waves. 
 
 The horizon and the whole firmament was overcast and 
 lurid with the flashings of the incessant lightning. Men 
 and birds might be seen crowded together upon the tall 
 trees which over-topped the swollen waters forming hills 
 which surround the great abysses. (G 6 v.) 
 
 OF A DELUGE AND THE REPRESENTATION OF IT 
 IN PAINTING 
 
 Let the dark, gloomy air be seen beaten by the rush 
 of opposing winds wreathed in perpetual rain mingled 
 with hail,? and bearing hither and thither a vast network 
 
 1 Dr. Richter reads ‘vertici.” I have followed M. Ravaisson-Mollien in 
 
 reading ‘ventri,’ The MS. has ‘vertri,’ 
 2 MS, ‘ gravza,’ I have followed Dr, Richter’s suggestion ‘ gragnuola.’ 
 
202 OF A DELUGE 
 
 of the torn branches of trees mixed together with an 
 infinite number of leaves. All around let there be seen 
 ancient trees uprooted and torn in pieces by the fury 
 of the winds. You should show how fragments of 
 mountains which have been already stripped bare by the 
 rushing torrents fall headlong into these very torrents 
 and choke up the valleys, until the pent-up rivers rise in 
 flood and cover the wide plains and their inhabitants. 
 Again there might be seen huddled together on the tops 
 of many of the mountains many different sorts of animals, 
 terrified and subdued at last to a state of tameness, in 
 company with men and women who had fled there with 
 their children. And the fields which were covered with 
 water had their waves covered over in great part with 
 tables, bedsteads, boats and various other kinds of rafts 
 improvised through necessity and fear of death, upon 
 which were men and women with their children, massed 
 together and uttering various cries and lamentations, 
 dismayed by the fury of the winds which were causing 
 the waters to roll over and over in mighty hurricane, 
 bearing with them the bodies of the drowned ; and there 
 was no object that floated on the water but was covered 
 with various different animals who had made truce and 
 stood huddled together in terror, among them being 
 wolves, foxes, snakes, and creatures of every kind, 
 fugitives from death. And all the waves that beat 
 against their sides were striking them with repeated 
 blows from the various bodies of the drowned, and the 
 blows were killing those in whom life remained. 
 
 Some groups of men you might have seen with arms in 
 their hands defending the tiny footholds that remained to 
 
OF A DELUGE 203 
 
 them from the lions and wolves and beasts of prey 
 which sought safety there. Ah, what dreadful tumults 
 one heard resounding through the gloomy air, smitten by 
 the fury of the thunder and the lightning it flashed forth, 
 which sped through it, bearing ruin, striking down 
 whatever withstood its course! Ah, how many might 
 you have seen stopping their ears with their hands in 
 order to shut out the loud uproar caused through the 
 darkened air by the fury of the winds mingled together 
 with the rain, the thunder of the heavens and the raging 
 of the thunderbolts! Others were not content to shut 
 their eyes, but placing their hands over them, one above 
 the other, would cover them more tightly in order not 
 to see the pitiless slaughter made of the human race by 
 the wrath of God. 
 
 Ah me, how many lamentations! How many in their 
 terror flung themselves down from the rocks! You 
 might have seen huge branches of the giant oaks laden 
 with men borne along through the air by the fury of the 
 impetuous winds. How many boats were capsized and 
 lying, some whole, others broken in pieces, on the top 
 of men struggling to escape with acts and gestures of 
 despair which foretold an awful death. Others with 
 frenzied acts were taking their own lives, in despair of ever 
 being able to endure such anguish ; some of these were 
 flinging themselves down from the lofty rocks, others 
 strangled themselves with their own hands; some seized 
 hold of their own children, and with mighty violence’ 
 slew them at one blow; some turned their arms against 
 
 1 MS. “inpeto°—‘ impeto.* Richter reads MS, as ‘rapito,’ and gives in text 
 ‘ rapidita,° 
 
204. OF A DELUGE 
 
 themselves to wound and slay ; others falling upon their 
 knees were commending themselves to God. 
 
 Alas, how many mothers were bewailing their drowned 
 sons, holding them upon their knees, lifting up open 
 arms to heaven, and with divers cries and _ shrieks 
 declaiming against the anger of the gods! Others with 
 hands clenched and fingers locked together gnawed and 
 devoured them with bites that ran blood, crouching down 
 so that their breasts touched their knees in their intense 
 and intolerable agony. 
 
 Herds of animals, such as horses, oxen, goats, sheep, 
 were to be seen already hemmed in by the waters and left 
 isolated upon the high peaks of the mountains, all huddling 
 together, and those in the middle climbing to the top and 
 treading on the others, and waging fierce battles with 
 each other, and many of them dying from want of food. 
 
 And the birds had already begun to settle upon men 
 and other animals, no longer finding any land left 
 unsubmerged which was not covered with living creatures. 
 Already had hunger the minister of death taken away 
 their life from the greater number of the animals, when 
 the dead bodies already becoming lighter began to rise 
 from out the bottom of the deep waters and emerged to 
 the surface among the contending waves ; and there lay 
 beating one against another, and as balls puffed up with 
 wind rebound back from the spot where they strike, these 
 fell back and lay upon the other dead bodies. And 
 above these horrors the atmosphere was seen covered 
 with murky clouds that were rent by the jagged course 
 of the raging thunderbolts of heaven which flashed light 
 hither and thither amid the obscurity of the darkness. 
 
OF A DELUGE 205 
 
 The velocity of the air is seen by the movement of 
 the dust stirred by the running of a horse ; and it moves 
 as swiftly to fill up the void left in the air which had 
 enclosed the horse as is the speed of the horse in passing 
 away from the aforesaid space of air. 
 
 But it will perhaps seem to you that you have cause 
 to censure me for having represented the different 
 courses taken in the air by the movement of the wind, 
 whereas the wind is not of itself visible in the air ; to this 
 I reply that it is not the movement of the wind itself 
 but the movement of the things carried by it which 
 alone is visible in the air. 
 
 THE DIVISIONS 
 
 Darkness, wind, tempest at sea, deluge of water, 
 woods on fire, rain, thunderbolts from the sky, earth- 
 quakes and destruction of mountains, levelling of 
 cities. 
 
 Whirlwinds which carry water and branches of trees 
 and men through the air. 
 
 Branches torn away by the winds crashing together 
 at the meeting of the winds, with people on the top of 
 them. | 
 
 Trees broken off laden with people. 
 
 Ships broken in pieces dashed upon the rocks. 
 Hail, thunderbolts, whirlwinds. 
 
 Herds of cattle. 
 
 People on trees which cannot bear them: trees and 
 rocks," towers, hills crowded with people, boats, tables, 
 
206 OF A DELUGE 
 
 troughs and other contrivances for floating,—hills 
 
 covered with men and women and animals, with light- 
 
 nings from the clouds which illumine the whole scene. 
 (Windsor MSS. Etudes et dessins sur Patmosphere [Rouveyre] 17 2.) 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF THE DELUGE 
 
 First of all let there be represented the summit of a 
 rugged mountain with certain of the valleys that sur- 
 round its base, and on its sides let the surface of the 
 soil be seen slipping down together with the tiny roots 
 of the small shrubs, and leaving bare a great part of the 
 surrounding rocks. Sweeping down in devastation from 
 these precipices, let it pursue its headlong course, striking 
 and laying bare the twisted and gnarled roots of the 
 great trees and overturning them in ruin. And the 
 mountains becoming bare should reveal the deep fissures 
 made in them by the ancient earthquakes ; and let the 
 bases of the mountains be in great part covered over 
 and clad with the debris of the shrubs which have fallen 
 headlong from the sides of the lofty peaks of the said 
 mountains, and let these be mingled together with mud, 
 roots, branches of trees, with various kinds of leaves 
 thrust in among the mud and earth and stones. And 
 let the fragments of some of the mountains have fallen 
 down into the depth of one of the valleys, and there form 
 a barrier to the swollen waters of its river, which having 
 already burst the barrier rushes on with immense waves, 
 the greatest of which are striking and laying in ruin the 
 walls of the cities and farms of the valley. And from 
 the ruins of the lofty buildings of the aforesaid cities let 
 there rise a great quantity of dust mounting up in the 
 
OF A DELUGE oy 
 
 air with the appearance of smoke or of wreathed clouds 
 that battle against the descending rain. 
 
 But the swollen waters should be coursing round the 
 pool which confines them, and striking against various 
 obstacles with whirling eddies, leaping up into the air 
 in turbid foam, and then falling back and causing the 
 water where they strike to be dashed up into the air; 
 and the circling waves which recede from the point of 
 contact are impelled by their impetus right across the 
 course of the other circling waves which move in an 
 opposite direction to them, and after striking against 
 these they leap up into the air without becoming de- 
 tached from their base. And where the water issues 
 forth from the said pool, the spent waves are seen 
 spreading out towards the outlet ; after which, falling or 
 descending through the air, this water acquires weight 
 and impetus; and then piercing the water where it strikes, 
 it tears it apart and dives down in fury to reach its 
 depth, and then recoiling it springs back again towards 
 the surface of the lake accompanied by the air which has 
 been submerged with it, and this remains in the slimy 
 foam’ mingled with the driftwood and other things 
 lighter than the water, and around these again are formed 
 the beginnings of the waves, which increase the more in 
 circumference as they acquire more movement; and this 
 movement makes them lower in proportion as they 
 acquire a wider base, and therefore they become almost 
 imperceptible as they die away. But if the waves re- 
 bound against various obstacles then they leap back and 
 
 1 Richter’s transcript (§ 609) is ‘ vissci cholla’ and he reads ‘nella uscita 
 colla sciuma,’ The MS. has I think ‘visscichosa,” which I have taken as a 
 variant of ‘vischiosa.” 
 
208 OF A DELUGE 
 
 oppose the approach of the other waves, following the 
 same law of development in their curve as they have 
 already shown in their original movement. The rain as 
 it falls from the clouds is of the same colour as these 
 clouds, that is on its shaded side, unless, however, the 
 rays of the sun should penetrate there, for if this were 
 so the rain would appear less dark than the cloud. And 
 if the great masses of the débris of huge mountains or 
 of large buildings strike in their fall the mighty lakes of 
 the waters, then a vast quantity of water will rebound 
 in the air, and its course will be in an opposite direction 
 to that of the substance which struck the water, that is to 
 say the angle of reflection will be equal to the angle of 
 incidence. 
 
 Of the objects borne along by the current of the 
 waters that will be at a greater distance from the two 
 opposite banks which is heavier or of larger bulk. The 
 eddies of the waters revolve most swiftly in those parts 
 which are nearest to their centre. The crests of the 
 waves of the sea fall forward to their base, beating and 
 rubbing themselves against the smooth particles which 
 form their face ; and by this friction the water as it falls 
 is ground up in tiny particles, and becomes changed to 
 thick mist and is mingled in the currents of the winds 
 in the manner of wreathing smoke or winding clouds, 
 and at last rises up in the air and becomes changed into 
 clouds. But the rain which falls through the air being 
 beaten upon and driven by the current of the winds 
 becomes rare or dense according to the rarity or density 
 of these winds, and by this means there is produced 
 
 1 MS. ‘e ttal confreghatione trita in minute partichule la dissciente acqua.’ 
 
OF A DELUGE 209 
 
 throughout the air a flood of transparent clouds which 
 is formed by the aforesaid rain and becomes visible in it 
 by means of the lines made by the fall of the rain which 
 is near to the eye of the spectator. The waves of the 
 sea that beats against the shelving base of the mountains 
 which confine it, rush? foaming in speed up to the ridge 
 of these same hills, and in turning back meet the onset 
 of the succeeding wave, and after loud roaring return in 
 a mighty flood to the sea from whence they came. A 
 great number of the inhabitants, men and different 
 animals, may be seen driven by the rising of the deluge 
 up towards the summits of the hills which border on 
 the said waters. 
 
 Waves of the sea at Piombino all of foaming water. 
 
 Of the water that leaps up—(of the place where the 
 great masses fall and strike the waters)°—of the winds 
 of Piombino. 
 
 Eddies of winds and of rain with branches and trees 
 mingled with the air. 
 
 The emptying the boats of the rain water. 
 (Windsor MSS. Etudes et dessins sur Patmosphere [ Rouveyre] 17 r.) 
 
 1 MS. ce p(er) quessto si gienera infrallaria vna innondatione di trasspareti 
 nuvoli la quale effacta dalla p(r)edetta pioggia e inquassta si fa manifessta 
 mediante i liniameéti fatti dal dissciéso della pioggia che e vicina all ochio che 
 la vede.’ The words printed in Italics are wanting in the text as given by 
 Dr. Richter (§ 669). 
 
 2 Dr. Richter reads ‘saranno’ (for MS. ‘sarrano’), but text is I think 
 ‘scorrano, presumably for ‘ scorrono.’ 
 
 3 The sentence within brackets is crossed through in the MS. 
 
210 OF PERSPECTIVE 
 
 Ill, PERSPECTIVE, AND LIGHT AND SHADE 
 
 Among the various studies of natural processes that of 
 light gives most pleasure to those who contemplate it ; 
 and among the noteworthy characteristics of mathema- 
 tical science the certainty of its demonstrations is what 
 operates most powerfully to elevate the minds of its 
 investigators. Perspective therefore is to be preferred 
 to all the formularies and systems of the schoolmen, for 
 in its province the complex beam of light is made to 
 show the stages of its development, wherein is found 
 the glory not only of mathematical but also of physical 
 science, adorned as it is with the flowers of both. And 
 whereas its propositions have been expanded with much 
 circumlocution I will epitomise them with conclusive 
 brevity, introducing, however, illustrations drawn either 
 from nature or from mathematical science according to 
 the nature of the subject, and sometimes deducing the 
 results from the causes and at other times the causes 
 from the results; adding also to my conclusions some 
 which are not contained :in these, but which inevertheless 
 are to be inferred from them ; even as the Lord who is 
 the Light of all things shall vouchsafe to reveal to me 
 who seek to interpret this light,—and consequently I 
 
 will divide the present work into three parts. 
 (C. A. 203 r. 4.) 
 
 PREAMBLE TO PERSPECTIVE—-CONCERNING THE 
 FUNCTION OF THE EYE 
 
 Consider now, O Reader, what trust can we place in 
 
 the ancients who have set out to define the nature of the 
 
 soul and of life,—things incapable of proof,—whilst - 
 
 — : Ute ‘ 2 . 
 as WT sg we nc daa yy 
 
 Oe ee a a 
 
OF PERSPECTIVE 211 
 
 those things which by experience may always be clearly 
 known and proved have for so many centuries either 
 remainec unknown or have been wrongly interpreted. 
 The eye which thus clearly offers proof of its func- 
 tions has even down to our own times been defined by 
 countless writers in one way, but I find by experience 
 that it acts in another. (C. A. 119 v 2.) 
 
 Perspective is the bridle and rudder of painting. 
 (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 13 r.) 
 
 Perspective is a rational demonstration whereby ex- 
 perience confirms how all things transmit their images to 
 the eye by pyramidal lines. By pyramidal lines I mean 
 those which start from the extremities of the surface of 
 bodies and by gradually converging from a distance 
 arrive at the same point ; the said point being, as I shall 
 show, in this particular case located in the eye, which is 
 the universal judge of all objects. I call a point that 
 which cannot be divided up into any narts; and as this 
 point which is situated in the eye is indivisible no body 
 can be seen by the eye which is not greater than this 
 point, and this being the case it is necessary that the 
 lines which extend from the object to the point should 
 be pyramidal. And if any one should wish to prove 
 that the faculty of sight does not belong to this point 
 but rather to that black spot which is seen in the centre 
 of the pupil, one might reply to him that a small object 
 never could diminish at any distance, as for example a 
 grain of millet or panic-seed or other similar thing,'and 
 that this thing which was greater than the said point 
 could never be entirely seen. (4. 10 r.) 
 
212 OF PERSPECTIVE 
 
 The body of the atmosphere is full of an infinite 
 number of the pyramids composed of radiating straight 
 lines which are caused by the boundaries of the surfaces 
 of the bodies in shadow that are found there, and the 
 further they are away from the object which produces 
 them the more their angle becomes acute. And al- 
 though they intersect and interlace in their passage, 
 nevertheless they do not become confused with each 
 other but proceed with divergent course, spreading them- 
 selves out and becoming diffused through all the sur- 
 rounding air. And they are of equal power among 
 themselves, all equal to each, and each equal to all, and 
 by means of them are transmitted the images of the 
 objects, and these are transmitted all in all, and all in 
 each part; and each pyramid receives of itself in each of 
 its smallest parts the whole form of the object which 
 produces it. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 6 v.) 
 
 OF THE ERROR MADE BY THOSE WHO PRACTISE 
 WITHOUT SCIENCE 
 
 Those who are enamoured of practice without science 
 are like a pilot who goes into a ship without rudder or 
 compass and never has any certainty where he is going. 
 
 Practice should always be based upon a sound know- 
 ledge of theory, of which perspective is the guide and 
 gateway, and without it nothing can be done wellin any 
 kind of painting. (G 8 r.) 
 
 PERSPECTIVE 
 
 Of things of equal size that which is further away 
 from the eye will appear of less bulk. (8. K. M. i. 15 v-) 
 
PLATE 9 
 
 Se 
 
 oe 
 
 Soe wl event 2 
 
 ae ae a 
 
 2 
 H 
 
 Pe Se 
 
 x 
 “ 
 
 BRAMBLE 
 
 (Rubus Fruticosus) 
 
 Face p. 212 
 
OF LINEAR PERSPECTIVE 213 
 
 OF LINEAR PERSPECTIVE 
 
 Linear perspective has to do with the function of the 
 lines of sight, proving by measurement how much 
 smaller is the second object than the first and the third 
 than the second, and so on continually until the limit of 
 things seen. I find by experience that if the second 
 object is as far distant from the first as the first is from 
 your eye, although as between themselves they may be 
 of equal size, the second will seem half as small again as 
 the first ; and if the third object is equal in size to the 
 second, and it is as far-beyond the second as the second 
 is from the first,’ it will appear half the size of the 
 second ; and thus by successive degrees at equal dis- 
 tances the objects will be continually lessened by half, 
 the second being half the first,—provided that the inter- 
 vening space does not amount to as much as twenty 
 braccia; for at the distance of twenty braccia a figure 
 resembling yours will lose four-fifths of its size, and at 
 a distance of forty braccia it will lose nine-tenths, and 
 nineteen-twentieths at sixty braccia, and so by degrees 
 it will continue to diminish when the plane of the picture 
 is twice your own height away from you, for if the dis- 
 tance only equals your own height there 1s a great differ- 
 
 ence between the first braccia and the second. 
 (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 23 r.) 
 
 OF AERIAL PERSPECTIVE 
 
 There is another kind of perspective which I call 
 
 aerial, because by the difference in the atmosphere one 
 1 MS. has ‘third.’ 
 
214 OF AERIAL PERSPECTIVE 
 
 is able to distinguish the various distances of different 
 buildings when their bases appear to end on a single line, 
 for this would be the appearance presented by a group 
 of buildings on the far side of a wall, all of which as 
 seen above the top of the wall look to be the same size ; 
 and if in painting you wish to make one seem further 
 away than another you must make the atmosphere some- 
 what heavy. You know that in an atmosphere of uni- 
 form density the most distant things seen through it, 
 such as the mountains, in consequence of the great 
 quantity of atmosphere which is between your eye and 
 them, will appear blue, almost of the same colour as the 
 atmosphere when the sun is in the east. Therefore you 
 should make the building which is nearest above the 
 wall of its natural colour, and that which is more dis- 
 tant make less defined and bluer ; and one which you 
 wish should seem as far away again make of double the 
 depth of blue, and one you desire should seem five times 
 as far away make five times as blue. And as a conse- 
 quence of this rule it will come about that the buildings 
 which above a given line appear to be of the same size 
 will be plainly distinguished as to which are the more 
 distant and which larger than the others. 
 
 (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 25 v.) 
 
 OF ORDINARY PERSPECTIVE 
 
 An object of uniform thickness and colour seen 
 against a background of various colours will appear not 
 to be of uniform thickness. 
 
 And if an object of uniform thickness and of various 
 
OF PERSPECTIVE IN PAINTING - ais 
 
 colours is seen against a background of uniform colour 
 the object will seem of a varying thickness. 
 
 And in proportion as the colours of the background, 
 or of the object seen against the background, have more 
 variety, the more will their thickness seem to vary, 
 although the objects seen against the background may 
 be of equal thickness. (117 2.) 
 
 A dark object seen against a light background will 
 seem smaller than it is. 
 
 A light object will appear greater in size when it is 
 
 seen against a background that is darker in colour. 
 (I 18 1.) 
 
 THE PERSPECTIVE OF THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE 
 OUTLINES OF OPAQUE BODIES 
 
 If the true outlines of opaque bodies become indistin- 
 guishable at any short distance they will be still more in- 
 visible at great distances ; and since it is by the outlines 
 that the true shape of each opaque body becomes known, 
 whenever because of distance we lack the perception of 
 the whole we shall lack yet more the perception of its 
 parts and outlines. (E 80r.) 
 
 OF THE REQUISITES OF PAINTING 
 
 The first requisite of painting is that the bodies which 
 it represents should appear in relief, and that the scenes 
 which surround them with effects of distance should 
 seem to enter into the plane in which the picture is 
 produced by means of the three parts of perspective, 
 namely the diminution in the distinctness of the form of 
 bodies, the diminution in their size, and the diminution 
 
216 HOW THE AIR IS FULL OF IMAGES 
 
 in their colour. Of these three divisions of perspective 
 the first has its origin in the eye, the two others are 
 derived from the atmosphere that is interposed between 
 the eye and the objects which the eye beholds. 
 
 The second requisite of painting is that the actions 
 should be appropriate and have a variety in the figures 
 so that the men may not all look as though they were 
 brothers. ' (E79 2.) 
 
 PERSPECTIVE 
 
 The air is full of an infinite number of images of the 
 things which are distributed through it, and all of these 
 are represented in all, all in one, and all in each. Con- 
 sequently it so happens that if two mirrors be placed 
 so as to be exactly facing each other, the first will be 
 reflected in the second and the second in the first. Now 
 the first being reflected in the second carries to it its 
 own image together with all the images which are re- 
 presented in it, among these being the image of the 
 second mirror; and so they continue from image to 
 image on to infinity, in such a way that each mirror 
 has an infinite number of mirrors within it, each smaller 
 than the last, and one inside another. 
 
 By this example, therefore, it is clearly proved that 
 each thing transmits the image of [itself] to all those 
 places where the thing itself is visible, and so conversely 
 this object is able to receive into itself all the images of 
 the things which are in front of it. 
 
 Consequently the eye transmits its own image through 
 the air to all the objects which are in front of it, and 
 receives them into itself, that is on its surface, whence 
 
HOW THE AIR IS FULL OF IMAGES 217 
 
 the understanding takes them and considers them, and 
 such as it finds pleasing these it commits to the memory. 
 
 So I hold that the invisible powers of the images in 
 the eyes may project themselves forth to the object as 
 do the images of the object to the eye. 
 
 An instance of how the images of all things are 
 spread through the air may be seen in a number of 
 mirrors placed in a circle, and they will then reflect each 
 other for an infinite number of times, for as the image 
 of one reaches another it rebounds back to its source, 
 and then becoming less rebounds yet again to the ob- 
 ject, and then returns, and so continues for an infinite 
 number of times. 
 
 If at night you place a light between two flat mirrors 
 which are a cubit’s space apart, you will see in each of 
 these mirrors an infinite number of lights one smaller 
 than another in succession. 
 
 If at night you place a light between the walls of a 
 [room], every part of these walls will become tinged by 
 the images of this light, and all those parts which are 
 exposed to the light will likewise be directly lit by it; 
 that is when there is no obstacle between them to inter- 
 rupt the transmission of the images. 
 
 This same example is even more apparent in the 
 transmission of solar rays, which all [pass] through all 
 objects, and consequently into each minutest part of 
 each object, and each ray of itself conveys to its object 
 the image of its source. 
 
 That each body alone of itself fills the whole sur- 
 rounding air with its images, and that this same air 1s 
 [able] at the same time to receive into itself the images 
 
218 OF DIMINUTION IN PERSPECTIVE 
 
 of the countless other bodies which are within it is 
 clearly shown by these instances, and each body is seen 
 in its entirety throughout the whole of the said atmo- 
 sphere and each in each minutest part of the same, and 
 all throughout the whole of it and all in each minutest 
 part ; each in all, and all in every part.  (C. 4. 138 r. 4.) 
 
 OF PAINTING AND PERSPECTIVE 
 
 There are three divisions of perspective as employed 
 in painting. Of these the first relates to the diminution 
 in the volume of opaque bodies; the second treats of 
 the diminution and disappearance of the outlines of 
 these opaque bodies; the third is of their diminution 
 and loss of colour when at a great distance. 
 
 OF THE PERSPECTIVE OF THE DIMINUTION OF 
 OPAQUE BODIES 
 
 Among opaque bodies of equal magnitude the 
 diminution apparent in their size will vary according 
 to their distance from the eye which sees them; but it 
 will be in inverse proportion, for at the greater distance 
 the opaque body appears less, and at a less distance 
 this body will appear greater, and on this is founded 
 linear perspective. And show secondly how every 
 object at a great distance loses first that portion of 
 itself which is the thinnest. Thus with a horse, it 
 would lose the legs sooner than the head because the 
 legs are thinner than the head, and it would lose the 
 neck before the trunk for the same reason. It follows 
 
OF THE ORDER OF DIMINUTION 219 
 
 therefore that the part of the horse which the eye 
 will be able last to discern will be the trunk, retaining 
 still its oval form, but rather approximating to the shape 
 of a cylinder, and it will lose its thickness sooner than its 
 length from the second conclusion aforesaid. If the eye 
 is immovable the perspective terminates its distance in 
 a point; but if the eye moves in a straight line the 
 perspective ends in a line, because it is proved that 
 the line is produced by the movement of the point, 
 and our sight is fixed upon the point, and consequently 
 it follows that as the sight moves the point moves, and 
 as the point moves the line is produced. (E 80 ».) 
 
 In every figure placed at a great distance you lose 
 first the knowledge of its most minute parts and preserve 
 to the last that of the larger parts, losing, however, 
 the perception of all their extremities, andethey become 
 oval or spherical in shape, and their boundaries are 
 indistinct. (G 53 2.) 
 
 Having, as I think, sufficiently treated of the natures 
 and different characteristics of primary and derived 
 shadows and the manner of their incidence, it seems 
 to me that the time has now come to explain the 
 different results upon the various surfaces which are 
 touched by these shadows. 
 
 SHADOW IS THE WITHHOLDING OF LIGHT 
 
 It seems to me that the shadows are of supreme 
 importance in perspective, seeing that without them 
 opaque and solid bodies will be indistinct, both as to 
 
220 OF PRIMARY AND DERIVED SHADOWS 
 
 what lies within their boundaries and also as to their 
 boundaries themselves, unless these are seen against a 
 background differing in colour to that of the substance ; 
 and consequently in the first proposition I treat of 
 shadows, and say in this connection that every opaque 
 body is surrounded and has its surface clothed with. 
 shadows and lights, and to this I devote the first book. | 
 Moreover these shadows are in themselves of varying 
 degrees of darkness because they are caused by the 
 absence of a variable quantity of luminous rays; and 
 these I call primary shadows, because they are the first 
 shadows and so form a covering to the bodies to which 
 they attach themselves, and to this I shall devote the 
 second book. From these primary shadows there issue 
 certain dark rays which are diffused throughout the air 
 and vary in intensity according to the varieties of the 
 primary shadows from which they are derived ; and con- 
 sequently I call these shadows derived shadows, because 
 they have their origin in other shadows ; and of this I 
 will make the third book. Moreover these derived 
 shadows in striking upon anything create as many 
 different effects as are the different places where they 
 strike ; and of this I will make the fourth book. And 
 since where the derived shadow strikes, it is always 
 surrounded by the striking of the luminous rays, it 
 leaps back with these in a reflex stream towards its 
 source and meets the primary shadow, and mingles with 
 and becomes changed into it, altering thereby somewhat 
 of its nature ; and to this I will devote the fifth book. 
 In addition to this I will make the sixth book to contain 
 an investigation of the many different varieties of the 
 
OF THEIR INCIDENCE 221 
 
 rebound of the reflected rays which will modify the 
 primary shadow by as many different colours as there 
 are different points from whence these luminous reflected 
 rays proceed. Further, I will make the seventh division 
 treat of the various distances that may exist between the 
 point of striking of each reflected ray and the point from 
 whence it proceeds, and of the various different shades 
 of colour which it acquires in striking against opaque 
 bodies. (C. A. 250, r. 2.) 
 
 OF PAINTING 
 
 Shadows and lights are observed by the eye under 
 three aspects. One of these is when the eye and the 
 light are both on the same side of the body which 1s 
 seen; the second is when the eye is in front of the 
 object and the light behind it ; and the third is that in 
 which the eye is in front of the object and the light at 
 the side, in such a way that when the line which extends 
 from the object to the eye meets that which extends 
 from the object to the light, they will at their junction’ 
 form a right angle. (K 105 [25] v-) 
 
 OF SHADOW 
 
 Where the shadow is bounded by light, note carefully 
 where it is lighter or darker, and where it is more or 
 less indistinct towards the light ; and above all I would 
 remind you that in youthful figures you should not 
 make the shadows end like stone, for the flesh retains 
 a slight transparency, as may be observed by looking at 
 
 1MS, cogatid, and so Dr. Richter. M, Ravaisson-Mollien has ‘ cognition,” 
 
222 OF DISTANT OBJECTS 
 
 a hand held between the eye and the sun, when it is 
 seen to flush red and to be of a luminous transparency. 
 And let the part which is brightest in colour be between 
 the lights and the shadows. And if you wish to see 
 what depth of shadow is needed for the flesh, cast a 
 shadow over it with your finger, and according as you 
 wish it to be lighter or darker, hold your finger nearer 
 or farther away from the picture, and then copy this 
 shadow. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 31 v.) 
 
 HOW SMALL FIGURES OUGHT CONSEQUENTLY TO BE 
 LEFT UNFINISHED 
 
 I say that when objects appear of minute size, it is 
 due to the said objects being at a distance from the 
 eye ; and when this is the case, there must of necessity — 
 be a considerable quantity of atmosphere between the 
 eye and the object, and this atmosphere interferes 
 with the distinctness of the form of the objects, and 
 consequently the minute details of these bodies will 
 become indistinguishable and unrecognisable. There- 
 fore, O painter, you should make your lesser figures 
 only suggested, and. not highly finished ; for if you 
 do otherwise, you will produce effects contrary to those 
 of nature, your mistress. : 
 
 The object is small because of the great space which 
 exists between the eye and it. This great space contains 
 within itself a great quantity of atmosphere ; and this 
 atmosphere forms of itself a dense body which interposes 
 and shuts out from the eye the minute details of the 
 objects. (MS. 2038, Bid. Nat. 31 0.) 
 
OF FACES IN DISTANCE 223 
 
 PAINTING 
 
 Among shadows of equal strength that which is 
 
 nearest to the eye will seem of least density. 
 (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 9 v.) 
 
 The derived shadow is stronger in proportion as it is 
 nearer to its source. (K 111 [31] 2.) 
 
 Primary and derived shadow is deeper when it is caused 
 by the light of the candle than by that of the atmosphere. 
 (Tr. Tav. 24. a.) 
 
 OF PAINTING 
 
 Shadows which you see with difficulty, and whose 
 boundaries you cannot define,—but which you only 
 apprehend and reproduce in your work with some hesi- 
 tation of judgment—these you should not represent as 
 finished or sharply defined, for the result would be that 
 your work would seem wooden. (MS. 2038, Bid. Nat. 14 ¢.) 
 
 WHY FACES AT A DISTANCE APPEAR DARK 
 
 We see clearly that all the images of the visible things 
 both large and small which serve us as objects enter to 
 the sense through the tiny pupil of the eye. If, then, 
 through so small an entrance there passes the image 
 of the immensity of the sky and of the earth, the face 
 of man—being almost nothing amid such vast images 
 of things, because of the distance which diminishes it— 
 occupies so little of the pupil as to remain indistinguish- 
 able ; and having to pass from the outer surface to 
 the seat of the sense through a dark medium, that is, 
 
224 OF FIGURES IN DISTANCE 
 
 through the hollow cells which appear dark, this image 
 when not of a strong colour is affected by the darkness 
 through which it passes, and on reaching the seat of the 
 sense it appears dark. No other reason can be advanced 
 to account for the blackness of this point in the pupil ; 
 and since it is filled with a moisture transparent like the 
 air, it acts like a hole made in a board ; and when looked 
 into it appears black, and the objects seen in the air, 
 whether light or dark, become indistinct in the darkness. 
 
 OF SHADOWS IN THE FAR DISTANCE 
 
 Shadows become lost in the far distance, because the 
 vast expanse of luminous atmosphere which lies between 
 the eye and the object seen suffuses the shadows of the 
 object with its own colour. 
 
 WHY A MAN SEEN AT A CERTAIN DISTANCE CANNOT 
 BE RECOGNISED 
 
 Diminishing perspective shows us that in proportion 
 as an object is further away the smaller it becomes. And 
 if you look at a man who is at the distance of a bowshot 
 away from you and put the eye of a small needle close 
 to your eye you will be able through this to see the 
 images of many men transmitted to the eye, and these 
 will all be contained at one and the same time within 
 the eye of the said needle. If then the image of a man 
 who is distant from you the space of a bowshot is so 
 transmitted to your eye as to occupy only a small part 
 of the eye of a needle, how should you be able in so 
 small a figure to distinguish or discern the nose or 
 
OF PERSPECTIVE 225 
 
 mouth or any detail of the body? And not seeing 
 these you cannot recognise the man since he does not 
 show you the features which cause men to differ in 
 appearance. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 20 0.) 
 
 OF PAINTING 
 
 The true knowledge of the form of an object becomes 
 gradually lost in proportion as distance decreases its 
 SIZe. (C. 4.176 ¢. 6.) 
 
 WHY OF TWO OBJECTS OF EQUAL SIZE THE PAINTED 
 ONE WILL LOOK LARGER THAN THAT IN RELIEF 
 
 This proposition is not so easy to expound as many 
 others, but I will nevertheless attempt to prove it, if 
 not completely, then in part. Diminishing perspective 
 demonstrates by reason that objects diminish in propor- 
 tion as they are farther away from the eye, and this 
 theory is entirely confirmed by experience. Now the 
 lines of sight which are between the object and the eye 
 when they reach the surface of the painting are all 
 intersected at a uniform boundary ;_ while the lines which 
 pass from the eye to the piece of sculpture have different 
 boundaries and are of varying lengths. The line which 
 is the longest extends to a limb which 1s farther away 
 than the rest, and consequently this limb appears 
 smaller ; and there are many lines longer than others, 
 for the reason that there are many small parts one 
 farther away than another, and being farther away these 
 of necessity appear smaller, and by appearing smaller 
 
 they effect a corresponding decrease in the whole mass 
 P 
 
226 OF REFLECTION 
 
 of the object. But this does not happen in the painting, 
 because as the lines of sight end at the same distance it 
 follows that they do not undergo diminution, and as the 
 parts are not themselves diminished they do not lessen 
 the whole mass of the object, and consequently the 
 diminution is not perceptible in the painting as it is in 
 sculpture. (M8. 2038, Bid. Nat. 19 1.) 
 
 OF REFLECTION 
 
 Reflections are caused by bodies of a bright nature 
 and of a smooth and half opaque surface, which when 
 struck by the light drive it back again to the first object 
 like the rebound of a ball. 
 
 OF WHERE THERE CANNOT BE LUMINOUS REFLECTION 
 
 All solid bodies have their surfaces covered by various 
 degrees of light and shadow. The lights are of two 
 kinds; the one is called original, the other derived. 
 Original I call that which proceeds from the flame of the 
 fire, or from the light of the sun, or of the atmosphere. 
 Derived light is the light reflected. But to return to 
 the promised definition I say that there 1s no luminous 
 reflection on the side of the body which is turned 
 towards objects in shadow such as shdded scenes, 
 meadows with grasses of varying height, green or bare 
 woods—for these, although the part of each branch 
 
 turned to the original light is imbued with the attributes — 
 
 of this light, have nevertheless so many shadows cast by — 
 
 each branch separately, and so many shadows cast by one 
 
 _ branch on another that in the whole mass there results — 
 
OF SHADOWS AND LIGHTS 227 
 
 such a depth of shadow that the light is as nothing ; 
 hence objects such as these cannot throw any reflected 
 
 light upon bodies opposite to them. 
 (MS. 2038, Bib, Nat. 14 2.) 
 
 That place will be most luminous which is farthest 
 away from mountains. | (H 68 [20] r.) 
 
 PERSPECTIVE 
 
 The shadows or reflections of things seen in moving 
 water, that is to say with tiny waves, will always be 
 greater than the object outside the water which causes 
 them. (H 76 [28] #.) 
 
 The atmosphere is blue because of the darkness which 
 
 is above it, for black and white together make blue. 
 (H 77 [29] ».) 
 The part of the cloud which is nearest to the eye will 
 seem swifter than that which is higher ; and for this 
 reason they often appear to be moving in contrary 
 directions, one to the other. (H 89 [41] r.) 
 
 OF PAINTING 
 
 The high lights or the lustre of any particular object 
 will not be situated in the centre of the illuminated part, 
 but will make as many changes of position as the eye 
 that beholds it. (H 90 [42] v.) 
 
 HOW WHITE BODIES OUGHT TO BE REPRESENTED 
 
 When you are representing a white body surrounded 
 by ample space, since the white has no colour-in itself it 
 is tinged and in part transformed by the colour of what 
 
228 OF THE TREATMENT OF WHITE BODIES 
 
 is set over against it. If you are looking at a woman 
 dressed in white in the midst of a landscape the side of 
 her that is exposed to the sun will be so dazzling in 
 colour that parts of it, like the sun itself, will cause pain 
 to the sight, and as for the side exposed to the atmosphere 
 —which is luminous because of the rays of the sun being 
 interwoven with it and penetrating it—since this atmo- 
 sphere is itself blue, the side of the woman which is 
 exposed to it will appear steeped in blue. If the surface 
 of the ground near to her be meadows, and the woman be 
 placed between a meadow lit by the sun and the sun 
 itself you will find that all the parts of the folds [of her 
 dress] which are turned towards the meadow will be 
 dyed by the reflected rays to the colour of the meadow ; 
 and thus she becomes changed into the colours of the 
 objects near, both those juminous and those non- 
 luminous. (M8. 2038, Bib. Nat. 20 r.) 
 
 OF COLOURS 
 
 Of colours of equal whiteness that will seem most 
 dazzling which is on the darkest background, and black 
 will seem most intense when it is against a background 
 of greater whiteness. 
 
 Red also will seem most vivid when against a yellow 
 background, and so in like manner with all the colours 
 when set against those which present the sharpest con- 
 trast. (C. A. 184 9. ¢.) 
 
 PAINTING 
 
 Since white is not a colour but is capable of becoming 
 the recipient of every colour, when a white object is seen 
 
 ee eee ee ate 
 
OF COLOURS 229 
 
 in the open air all its shadows are blue ; and this comes 
 about in accordance with the fourth proposition, which 
 says that :—‘the surface of every opaque body partakes 
 of the colour of surrounding objects.’ As therefore this 
 white object is deprived of the light of the sun by the 
 interposition of some object which comes between 
 the sun and it, all that portion of it which is exposed 
 to the sun and the atmosphere, continues to partake of 
 the colour of the sun and the atmosphere, and that part 
 which is not exposed to the sun remains in shadow, and 
 only partakes of the colour of theatmosphere. And if this 
 white object should neither reflect the green of the fields 
 which stretch out to the horizon nor yet face the bright- 
 ness of the horizon itself, it would undoubtedly appear of 
 
 such simple colour as the atmosphere showed itself to be. 
 (F 75 r.) 
 
 OF PAINTING 
 
 The colour of the object illuminated partakes of the 
 colour of that which illuminates it. (G 37 r.) 
 
 The colours of the middle of the rainbow mingle with 
 each other. 
 
 The bow itself is neither in the rain nor in the eye that 
 sees it, although. it is produced by the rain, the sun, and 
 the eye. 
 
 The rainbow is invariably seen by the eye which is 
 situated between the rain and the body of the sun, and 
 consequently when the sun is in the east and the rain in 
 
 the west the rainbow is produced upon the western rain. 
 (E cover 1 0.) 
 
230 OF COLOUR IN PERSPECTIVE 
 
 HOW THE PAINTER OUGHT TO PRACTISE HIMSELF 
 IN THE PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS 
 
 As a means of practising this perspective of the varia- 
 tion and loss or diminution of the proper essence of 
 colours, take at distances a hundred braccia apart ob- 
 jects standing in the landscape, such as trees, houses, 
 men, and places, and in front of the first tree fix a 
 piece of glass so that it is quite steady, and then let 
 your eye rest upon it and trace out a tree upon the glass 
 
 above the outline of the tree; and afterwards remove 
 
 the glass so far to one side that the actual tree seems 
 almost to touch the one that you have drawn. Then 
 colour your drawing in such a way that the two are 
 
 alike in colour and form, and that if you close one eye 
 
 both seem painted on the glass and the same distance 
 away. ‘Then proceed in the same way with a second and 
 a third tree at distances of a hundred braccia from each 
 other. And these will always serve as your standards 
 and teachers when you are at work on pictures where 
 they can be applied, and they will cause the work to 
 be successful in its distance. But I find that it is a rule 
 that the second is reduced to four-fifths the size of the 
 
 first when it is twenty braccia distant from it. 
 (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 22 v.) 
 
 OF PAINTING 
 
 The outlines and forms of each part of bodies in 
 
 shadow are poorly distinguished in their shadows and 
 lights, but in such parts as are between the lights and 
 shadows parts of these bodies are of the first degree of 
 
 distinctness. | i (G 32 r.) 
 
 OS a a 
 
OF OUTLINES AND LIGHTS 231 
 
 THE BOUNDARIES OF BODIES ARE THE LEAST OF 
 ALL. THINGS 
 
 The truth of this proposition is proved by the fact 
 that the boundary of the substance is a surface, which 
 is neither a part of the body enclosed by this surface 
 nor a part of the atmosphere which surrounds this body, 
 but is the medium interposed between the atmosphere 
 and the body, as is proved in its place. But the lateral 
 boundaries of these bodies are the boundary line of 
 the surface, which line is of invisible thickness. There- 
 fore, O painter, do not surround your bodies with lines, 
 and especially when making objects less than their 
 natural size, for these not only cannot show their lateral 
 boundaries, but their parts will be invisible from dis- 
 tance. i (G 377.) . 
 
 OF LIGHTS 
 
 The lights which illumine opaque bodies are of four 
 kinds, that is to say universal as that of the atmosphere 
 within our horizon, and particular like that of the sun or 
 of a window or door or other space ; and the third is 
 reflected light ; and there is also a fourth which passes 
 through substances of the degree of transparency of linen 
 or paper or such like things, but not those transparent like 
 glass or crystal or other diaphanous bodies with which 
 the effect is the same as if there was nothing interposed 
 between the body in shadow and the light that illumines 
 it ; and of these we shall treat separately in our discourse. 
 , (G 3 4) 
 
232 OF THE EFFECT OF ATMOSPHERE 
 
 OF THE ATMOSPHERE INTERPOSED BETWEEN THE 
 EYE AND THE VISIBLE OBJECT 
 
 The object will appear more or less distinct at the 
 same distance in proportion as the atmosphere inter- 
 posed between the eye and this object is of greater or 
 less clearness. Since therefore you are aware that the 
 greater or less quantity of atmosphere interposed be- 
 tween. the eye and the object causes the outlines of these 
 objects to seem more,or less blurred to the eye, you 
 should represent the stages of loss of definiteness of 
 these bodies in the same proportion to each other as 
 that of their distances from the eye of the beholder. 
 
 (E79 2) 
 
 HOW THE CONDITION OF THE ATMOSPHERE AFFECTS 
 THE LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 
 
 That body will present the strongest contrast between 
 its lights and shadows which is seen by the strongest 
 light, such as the light of the sun or at night by the 
 light of a fire; but this should rarely be employed in 
 painting because the works will remain hard and devoid 
 of grace. | 
 
 A body which is in a moderate light will have but 
 little difference between its lights and shadows; and 
 this comes to pass at the fall of the evening, or when 
 there are clouds: works painted then are soft in feeling 
 and every kind of face acquires a charm. Thus in 
 every way extremes are injurious. Excess of light 
 makes things seem hard;* and too much darkness 
 
 1 MS. has ‘il tropo lume fa crudo.” So also Dr, Richter. The text of 
 M. Ravaisson-Mollien in place of ‘ fa crudo” has ‘ facendo.” 
 
OF LIGHTS 233 
 
 does not admit of our seeing them. The mean is 
 excellent. 
 
 OF SMALL LIGHTS 
 
 The lights cast from small windows also present a 
 strong contrast of light and shadow, more especially if 
 the chamber lit by them is large; and this is not good 
 to use in painting. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 33 2.) 
 
 AT WHAT HEIGHT THE LIGHT SHOULD BE IN ORDER 
 TO DRAW FROM NATURE 
 
 When you are drawing from nature the light should 
 be from the north, so that it may not vary; and if 
 it is from the south keep the window covered with a 
 curtain so that though the sun shine upon it all day long 
 the light will undergo no change. The elevation of the 
 light should be such that each body casts a shadow on 
 the ground which is of the same length as its height. 
 
 (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 33 7.) 
 
 WHY BEAUTIFUL COLOURS SHOULD BE IN THE LIGHTS 
 
 Since we see that the quality of colours becomes 
 known by means of light, it is to be inferred that where 
 there is most light there the true quality of the colour so 
 illuminated will be most visible, and where there is most 
 shadow there the colour will be most affected by the 
 colour of the shadow. Therefore, O painter, be mindful 
 to show the true quality of the colours in the parts 
 which are in light. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 33 1.) 
 
234 OF ARRANGEMENT OF LIGHT 
 
 HOW ONE OUGHT TO ARRANGE THE LIGHT UPON 
 FIGURES 
 The disposition of the light should be in harmony 
 with the natural conditions under which you represent 
 your figure ; that is if you are representing it in sun- 
 light, make the shadows dark with great spaces of light, 
 and mark the shadows of all the surrounding bodies and 
 
 their shadows upon the ground. If you represent it in 
 dull weather, make only a slight difference between the 
 
 lights and the shadows, and do not make any other 
 shadow at the feet. If you represent it within doors, 
 make a strong difference between the lights and shadows 
 and show the shadow on the ground. 
 
 And if you represent a window covered by a curtain 
 
 and the wall white there should be little difference be- 
 
 tween the lights and shadows. If it is lit by a fire you 
 
 should make the lights ruddy and powerful and the | 
 
 shadows dark ; and where the shadows strike the walls or 
 
 the floor should be sharply defined, and the farther away — 
 they extend from the body the broader and larger should — 
 
 they become. And if it be lit in part by the fire and 
 
 in part by the atmosphere, make the part lit by the ) 
 atmosphere the stronger, and let that lit by the fire be © 
 
 almost as red as fire itself: And above all let the figures 
 
 that you paint have sufficient light and from above, that — 
 is all living persons whom you paint, for the people whom ~ 
 you see in the streets are all lighted from above; and I — 
 
 4 
 
 would have you know that you have no acquaintance 
 
 so intimate but that if the light fell on him from below - 
 you would find it difficult to recognise him. 
 
 ¢ 
 
 (MS. 2038, Bid. Nat. 33 ra 
 
 | 
 
OF LIGHT AND SHADE 235 
 
 OF THE JUDGMENT THAT YOU OUGHT TO PASS UPON 
 THE WORK OF A PAINTER 
 
 First you should consider the figures whether they 
 have the relief which their position requires, and the 
 light that illuminates them, so that the shadows may not 
 be the same at the extremities of the composition as in 
 the centre, because it is one thing for a figure to be 
 surrounded by shadows, and another for it to have the 
 shadows only on one side. Those figures are surrounded 
 by shadows which are towards the centre of the com- 
 position, because they are shaded by the dark figures 
 interposed between them and the light; and those are 
 shaded on one side only which are interposed between 
 the light and the main group, for where they do not 
 face the light they face the group, and there they repro- 
 duce the darkness cast by this group, and where they 
 do not face the group they face the brightness of the 
 light, and there they reproduce its radiance. 
 
 _ Secondly, you should consider whether the distribution 
 or arrangement of the figures is devised in agreement 
 with the conditions you desire the action to represent. 
 
 Thirdly, whether the figures are actively engaged on 
 their purpose. (G 19 r.) 
 
 OF THE LIGHTS ON THE LOWER EXTREMITIES OF BODIES 
 PACKED TIGHTLY TOGETHER SUCH AS MEN IN 
 BATTLE 
 
 Of men and horses labouring in battle the different 
 
 parts should be darker in proportion as they are closer 
 to the ground on which they are supported ; and this is 
 
236 OF LIGHT AND SHADE 
 
 proved from the sides of wells, which become darker in 
 proportion to their depth, this being due to the fact that 
 the lowest part of the well sees and is seen by a lesser 
 amount of the luminous atmosphere than any other part 
 of it. And the pavements when they are the same 
 colour as the legs of the men and horses will always 
 seem in higher light within equal angles than will these 
 same legs. (G 15 7.) 
 
 OF SITUATION 
 
 Take careful note of the situation of your figures, for 
 you will have the light and shade different if the object 
 is in a dark place with a particular light, and if it is ina 
 bright place with the direct light of the sun, and different 
 also if it is in a dark place with the diffused light of 
 evening or in dull weather, and if it is in the diffused 
 
 light of the atmosphere lit by the sun. 
 (G 33%) 
 
 OF SHADOWS AND LIGHTS 
 
 You, who reproduce the works of nature, behold the 
 dimensions, the degrees of intensity, and the forms of 
 the lights and shadows of each muscle, and observe in 
 the lengths of their figures towards which muscle they 
 are directed by the axis of their central lines. 
 
 (£31) 
 IV. LANDSCAPE 
 
 OF CITIES OR OTHER BUILDINGS SEEN IN THE EVENING 
 OR MORNING IN THE MIST 
 
 Buildings seen at a great distance in the evening or 
 
 morning through mist or heavy atmosphere, have only 
 
OF MORNING LIGHT 237 
 
 such portions in light as are illuminated by the sun 
 which is then near the horizon, and the parts of these 
 buildings which are not exposed to the sun remain almost 
 the same dim neutral colour as the mist. (E 3 2.) 
 
 OF TREES IN THE SOUTH 
 
 When the sun is in the east, the trees in the south 
 _and north are almost as much in light as in shadow, but 
 the total amount in light is greater in proportion as they 
 are more to the west, and the total amount in shadow 
 is greater in proportion as they are more to the east. 
 
 OF MEADOWS 
 
 When the sun is in the east, the grasses in the 
 meadows and the other small plants are of a most 
 brilliant green, because they are transparent to the sun. 
 This does not happen with the meadows in the west, 
 and in those in the south and north, the grasses are of a 
 moderate brilliance in their green. (G 20 &.) 
 
 THE ASPECTS OF LANDSCAPES 
 
 When the sun is in the east, all the parts of trees 
 which are illuminated by it are of a most brilliant green ; 
 and this is due to the fact that the leaves illuminated by 
 the sun within half our hemisphere, namely the eastern 
 half, are transparent ; while within the western semicircle 
 the verdure has a sombre hue and the air is damp and 
 heavy, of the colour of dark ashes, so that it is not 
 transparent like that in the east, which is refulgent, and 
 the more so as it is more full of moisture. 
 
238 | OF MORNING LIGHT 
 
 The shadows of the trees in the east cover a large 
 part of the tree, and they are darker in proportion as the 
 trees are thicker with leaves. (Gain) - 
 
 OF TREES IN THE EAST 
 
 When the sun is in the east, the trees seen towards 
 the east will have the light surrounding them all around 
 their shadows, except towards the earth, unless the tree 
 has been pruned in the previous year ; and the trees in 
 the south and in the north will be half in shadow and 
 half in light, and more or less in shadow or in light 
 according as they are more or less to the east or to 
 the west. | 
 
 The fact of the eye being high or low causes a 
 variation in the shadows and lights of trees, for when 
 the eye is above, it sees the trees with very little shadow, © 
 and when below with a great deal of shadow. 
 
 The different shades of green of plants are as varied 
 as are their species. (G 21 2) 
 
 OF THE SHADOWS OF TREES 
 
 When the sun is in the east, the trees towards the 
 west will appear to the eye with very little relief and 
 of almost imperceptible gradation, on account of the 
 atmosphere which lies very thick between the eye and 
 these trees, according to the seventh [part] of this 
 [treatise]; and they are deprived of shadow, for although 
 a shadow exists in each part of the ramification, it so 
 happens that the images of shadow and light which come 
 to the eye are confused and blended together, and cannot 
 
OF MORNING LIGHT 239 
 
 be discerned through the smallness of their size. And 
 the highest lights are in the centre of the trees and 
 the shadows are towards their extremities, and their 
 separation is marked by the shadows in the spaces 
 between these trees when the forests are dense with 
 trees ; and in those which are more scattered the con- 
 tours are but little seen. (G 227.) 
 
 OF TREES IN THE EAST 
 
 When the sun is in the east, the trees in that quarter 
 are dark towards the centre and their edges are in light. 
 
 OF THE SMOKE OF CITIES 
 
 _ The smoke is seen better and more distinctly in the 
 eastern than in the western quarter when the sun is 
 in the east. This is due to two causes; the first is 
 that the sun shines through the particles of this smoke 
 with its rays, and lightens these up and renders them 
 visible ; the second is that the roofs of the houses seen 
 in the east at this hour are in shadow, because their 
 slope prevents them from being lighted by the sun; the 
 same happens with the dust, and both the one and the 
 other are more charged with light in proportion as they 
 are thicker, and they are thickest towards the middle. 
 
 (G 22 ©.) 
 
 OF SMOKE AND DUST 
 
 When the sun is in the east, the smoke of cities will 
 not be visible in the west, because it is neither seen 
 penetrated by the solar rays nor against a dark back- 
 ground, since the roofs of the houses turn the same side 
 
240 OF COLOUR IN LANDSCAPE 
 
 to the eye that they show to the sun, and against this 
 bright background the smoke will be scarcely visible. 
 But dust when seen under the same conditions will 
 appear darker than smoke, because it is thicker in 
 
 substance than smoke which is made up of vapour. 
 (G 23 17.) 
 
 OF SHADOWS AND LIGHTS ON CITIES 
 
 When the sun is in the east and the eye is looking 
 down upon a city from above, the eye will see the 
 southern part of the city, with its roofs half in shadow 
 and half in light, and so also with the northern part ; 
 but the eastern part will be all in shadow and the 
 western part all in light. (G 19 2.) 
 
 OF PAINTING 
 
 Of the various colours other than blue, that which 
 at a great distance will resemble blue most closely, will 
 be that which is nearest to black, and so conversely 
 the colour which least resembles black will be the one 
 
 which at a great distance will most retain its natural — 
 
 colour. 
 
 Accordingly the green in landscapes will become more 
 changed into blue than will the yellow or the white, and 
 so conversely the yellow and the white will undergo less 
 change than the green, and the red still less. 
 
 OF LANDSCAPES 
 
 (L750) 9 
 
 The dark colours of the shadows of mountains at a _ 
 great distance take a more beautiful and purer blue than © 
 
 do those parts which are in light, and from this it follows 
 
OF LANDSCAPE IN WINTER 241 
 
 that when the rock of the mountains is reddish, the 
 parts of it which are in light are fawn-coloured, and the 
 more brightly it is illuminated the more closely will it 
 retain its natural colour. (I 48 r.) 
 
 PAINTING 
 
 The landscapes which occur in representations of 
 winter should not show the mountains blue as one sees 
 them in summer, and this is proved by the fourth part of 
 this [chapter], where it is stated that of the mountains 
 seen at a great distance that will seem a deeper blue in 
 colour which is in itself darker ; for when the trees are 
 stripped of their leaves they look grey in colour, and 
 when they are with their leaves they are green, and in 
 proportion as the green is darker than the grey, the green 
 will appear a more intense blue than the grey ;. and by 
 the fifth part of this [chapter], the shadows of trees 
 which are clad with leaves are as much darker than the 
 shadows of those trees which are stripped of leavesas the 
 trees clad with leaves are denser than those without 
 leaves ; and thus we have established our proposition. 
 
 The definition of the blue colour of the atmosphere 
 supplies the reason why landscapes are a deeper shade of 
 blue in summer than in winter. (E 191.) 
 
 OF HOW TO PAINT WIND 
 
 In representing wind, in addition to showing the 
 _ bending of the boughs and the inverting of their leaves 
 at the approach of the wind, you should represent the 
 
 clouds of fine dust mingled with the troubled air. 
 (E 6 u) 
 
 Q 
 
242 OF TREES 
 
 OF HOW TO DEPICT A WILD LANDSCAPE 
 
 Those trees and shrubs which are more split up into 
 a quantity of thin branches ought to have less density of 
 shadow. The tree and the shrubs which have larger leaves 
 cast a greater shadow. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 31 0.) 
 
 OF TREES AND THEIR LIGHT 
 
 The true method of practice in representing country 
 scenes, or I should say landscapes with their trees, is to 
 choose them when the sun in the sky is hidden, so that 
 the fields receive a diffused light and not the direct light 
 of the sun, for this makes the shadows sharply defined 
 and very different from the lights.  (G11e.) 
 
 OF TREES 
 
 What outlines do trees show at a distance against the 
 atmosphere which serves as their background? The 
 outlines of the structure of trees against the luminous 
 atmosphere as they are more remote approach the 
 spherical more closely in their shape, and as they are 
 nearer so they display a greater divergence from the 
 spherical form. So the first tree a@' as being near to the 
 eye displays the true form of its ramification, but this 1s 
 somewhat less visible in 4, and disappears altogether in ¢, 
 where not only can none of the branches of the tree be 
 seen, but the whole tree can only be recognised with 
 great difficulty. 
 
 Every object in shadow,—be it of whatever shape you 
 please,—will at a great distance appear to be spherical ; 
 and this occurs because if an object be rectangular, then at 
 
 1 MS. contains a sketch of a row of trees seen in perspective. 
 
 | 
 
PLATE to 
 
 GROVE OF SILVER BIRCHES 
 
 Face p. 242 
 
OF TREES 243 
 
 a very short distance its angles become invisible, and a 
 little farther off it loses more than it retains of the lesser 
 sides, and so before losing the whole it loses the parts, since 
 these are less than the whole. So with a man when so 
 situated you lose sight of the legs, arms, and head, before 
 the trunk, and then the extremities of the length become 
 lost before those of the breadth, and when these have 
 become equal there would be a square’ if the angles 
 remained, but as they are lost there is asphere. (G 26 v.) 
 
 HOW ONE SHOULD REPRESENT LANDSCAPES 
 
 Landscapes ought to be represented so that the trees 
 are half in light and half in shadow ; but it is better to 
 make them when the sun is covered in clouds, for then 
 the trees are lighted up by the general light of the sky 
 and the general shadow of the earth; and these are so 
 much darker in their parts in proportion as these parts 
 are nearer to the middle of the tree and to the earth. 
 
 (G 19 ©.) 
 
 OF TREES WHICH ARE ILLUMINATED BY THE SUN. OR 
 BY THE ATMOSPHERE 
 
 The trees illuminated by the sun and by the atmo- 
 sphere which have leaves of a dark colour will be illumi- 
 nated on one side by the atmosphere alone, and in 
 consequence of being thus illuminated will share its 
 blueness ; and on the opposite side they will be illuminated 
 both by the atmosphere and the sun, and the part which 
 the eye sees illuminated by the sun will be resplendent. 
 
 (G 28 ov.) 
 
 1 IT have followed Dr. Richter in interpreting a tiny figure in the text as a 
 square. M, Ravaisson-Mollien reads it as ‘ci.’ 
 
244 OF TREES 
 
 OF THE SHADOWS OF VERDURE 
 
 The shadows of verdure always approximate to blue, 
 and so it is with every shadow of every other thing, and 
 they tend to this colour more entirely when they are 
 further distant from the eye, and less in proportion as 
 they are nearer. 
 
 The leaves which reflect the blue of the atmosphere 
 always present themselves edgewise to the eye. 
 
 OF THE ILLUMINATED PARTS OF VERDURE AND OF 
 wha 3 MOUNTAINS 
 
 The part illuminated will show more of its natural 
 colour at @ great distance when it is illuminated by the 
 most powerful light. (G 15 7.) 
 
 In the representation of trees in leaf be careful not to 
 repeat the same colour too often for a tree which has 
 another tree of the same colour as its background, but 
 vary it by making the foliage lighter or darker or of a 
 more vivid green. (G 27 ».) 
 
 The extremities of the branches of trees if not dragged 
 down by the weight of their fruit turn towards the en 
 as much as possible. 
 
 The upper sides of their leaves are turned towards 
 the sky in order to receive nourishment from the dew 
 
 that falls by night. 
 
 The sun gives spirit and life to plants and the earth 
 nourishes them with moisture. In this connection I 
 once made the experiment of leaving only one small 
 root on a gourd and keeping this nourished with water ; 
 
OF PLANTS 245 
 
 and the gourd brought to perfection all the fruits that 
 it could produce, which were about sixty gourds of the 
 long species ; and I set myself diligently to consider the 
 source of its life, and I perceived that it was the dew of 
 the night which steeped it abundantly with its moisture 
 through the joints of its great leaves, and thereby 
 nourished the tree and its offspring, or rather the seeds 
 which were to produce its offspring. 
 
 The rule as to the leaves produced on the last of the 
 year’s branches is that on twin branches they will grow 
 in a contrary direction, that is, that the leaves in their 
 earliest growth turn themselves round towards the branch 
 in such a way that the sixth leaf above grows over the 
 sixth leaf below ; and the manner of their turning is 
 that if one turns towards its fellow on the right, the 
 other turns to the left. 
 
 The leaf serves as a breast to nourish the branch or 
 fruit which grows in the succeeding year. (G 32 2.) 
 
 OF THE PLANTS OF THE FIELDS 
 
 Of the plants which take their shadows from the trees 
 which grow among them, those which are in front of the 
 shadow have their stalks lighted up against a back- 
 ground of shadow, and the plants which are in shadow 
 Have their stalks dark against a light background, that 
 1s against a background which is beyond the shadow. 
 
 OF THE TREES WHICH ARE BETWEEN THE EYE AND 
 THE LIGHT 
 Of the trees which are between the eye and the light, 
 the part in front will be bright, and this brightness will 
 
246 OF FOLIAGE 
 
 be diversified by the ramification of the transparent 
 leaves—as seen from the under side,—with the shining 
 leaves seen from the right side, and in the background, 
 below and behind, the verdure will be dark, because it is 
 
 cast in shadow by the front part of the said tree; and» 
 
 this occurs in trees which are higher than the eye. 
 (G 9 2) 
 
 OF DARK LEAVES IN FRONT OF TRANSPARENT ONES 
 
 When the leaves are interposed between the light and 
 the eye, then that which is nearest to the eye will be the 
 darkest, and that farthest away will be the lightest, if 
 they are not seen against the atmosphere; and this 
 happens with leaves which are beyond the centre of the 
 tree, that is in the direction of the light. (G 10%.) 
 
 OF THE LIGHTS ON DARK LEAVES 
 
 The lights on such leaves as are darkest in colour will 
 most closely resemble the colour of the atmosphere re- 
 flected in them; and this is due to the fact that the 
 brightness of the illuminated part mingling with the 
 darkness forms of itself a blue. colour ; and this bright- 
 ness proceeds from the blue of the atmosphere which is 
 reflected in the smooth surface of these leaves, thereby 
 adding to the blueness which this light usually produces 
 when it falls upon dark objects. 
 
 OF THE LIGHTS ON LEAVES OF YELLOWISH GREEN 
 
 But leaves of yellowish green do not when they reflect 
 the atmosphere create a reflection which verges on blue ; 
 
 for every object when seen in a mirror takes in part the | 
 
 peg 
 
OF FOLIAGE 247 
 
 colour of this mirror; therefore the blue of the atmo- 
 sphere reflected in the yellow of the leaf appears green, 
 because blue and yellow mixed together form a most 
 brilliant green, and therefore the lustre on light leaves 
 which are yellowish in colour will be a greenish yellow. 
 (G 28 v.) 
 
 The shadows of plants are never black, for where the 
 atmosphere penetrates there cannot be utter darkness. 
 2 (G 8 7.) 
 
 The leaf always turns its upper side towards the sky 
 so that it may be better able to receive over its whole 
 surface the dew which drops down with the slow move- 
 ment of the atmosphere ; and these leaves are arranged on 
 the plants in such a way that one covers another as little 
 as possible, but they lie alternately one above the other 
 as is seen with the ivy which covers the walls. And this 
 alternation serves two ends ; that is in order to leave spaces 
 so that the air and the sun may penetrate between them, 
 —and the second purpose of it is that the drops which 
 fall from the first leaf may fall on to the fourth, or on 
 to the sixth in the case of other trees. (G 27 a) 
 
 The shadows on transparent leaves seen from beneath 
 are the same as those on the right side of the leaf, for 
 the shadow is visible in transparence on the under side 
 as well as the part in light; but the lustre can never be 
 seen in transparence. (G 32.) 
 
 Although leaves with a smooth surface are for the 
 most part of the same colour on the right side-as on the 
 reverse, it so happens that the side exposed to the atmo- 
 
248 OF FOLIAGE 
 
 sphere partakes of the colour of the atmosphere, and 
 seems to partake of its colour more closely in proportion 
 as the eye is nearer to it and sees it more foreshortened. 
 And the shadows will invariably appear darker on the 
 right side than on the reverse through the contrast 
 caused by the high lights appearing against the shadow. 
 The under side of the leaf, although its colour in itself 
 may be the same as that of the right side, appears 
 more beautiful in colour; and this colour is a green 
 verging upon yellow ; and this occurs when this leaf is 
 interposed between the eye and the light which illumines 
 it from the opposite side. Its shadows also are in the 
 same positions as were those on the opposite side. 
 Therefore, O Painter, when you make trees near at 
 hand remember that when your eye is somewhat below 
 the level of the tree you will be able to see its leaves 
 some on the right side and some on the reverse; and 
 the right sides will be a deeper blue as they are seen more 
 foreshortened, and the same leaf will sometimes show 
 part of the right side and part of the reverse, and conse- 
 
 quently you must make it of two colours. 
 | (G 3 1r. and2 0.) 
 
 When there is one belt of green behind another, the 
 high lights on the leaves and their transparent lights 
 show more strongly than those which are against the 
 brightness of the atmosphere. 
 
 And if the sun illumines the leaves without these 
 coming between it and the eye, and without the eye 
 facing the sun, then the high lights and the transparent 
 lights of the leaves are extremely powerful. 
 
PLATE 11 
 
 STUDY OF TREE 
 
 Face p. 248 
 
OF DISTANT OBJECTS 249 
 
 It is very useful to make some of the lower branches, 
 and these should be dark, and should serve as a back- 
 ground for the illuminated belts of green which are at 
 some little distance from the first. 
 
 Of the darker greens seen from below, that part 
 is darkest which is nearest to the eye, that is to say which 
 is farthest from the luminous atmosphere. (G4r) 
 
 Never represent leaves as though transparent in the 
 sun, because they are always indistinct ; and this comes 
 about because over the transparency of one leaf there 
 will be imprinted the shadow of another leaf which is 
 above it; and this shadow has definite outlines and a 
 fixed density. And sometimes it is the half or third part 
 of the leaf which is in the shadow, and consequently the 
 structure of such a leaf is indistinct, and the imitation of 
 it is to be avoided. 
 
 The upper branches of the spreading boughs of trees 
 keep nearer to the parent bough than do those below. 
 
 That leaf is less transparent which takes the light at a 
 more acute angle. (G40.) 
 
 OF THE WAY TO PRESENT DISTANT OBJECTS IN PAINTING 
 
 It is evident that the part of the atmosphere which 
 lies nearest the level ground is denser than the rest, 
 and that the higher it rises the lighter and more 
 transparent it becomes.» 
 
 In the case of large and lofty objects which are some 
 distance away from you, their lower parts will not be 
 much seen, because the line by which you should see 
 
250 OF THE ATMOSPHERE 
 
 them passes through the thickest and densest portion of 
 the atmosphere. But the summits of these heights are 
 seen along a line which, although when starting from 
 your eye it is produced through the denser atmo- 
 sphere, yet since it ends at the highest summit of the 
 object seen, concludes its course in an atmosphere far 
 more rarefied than that of its base. And consequently 
 the farther away from you this line extends from point 
 to point the greater is the change in the finer quality of 
 the atmosphere. 
 
 Do you, therefore, O Painter, when you represent 
 mountains, see that from hill to hill the bases are always 
 paler than the summits, and the farther away you make 
 them one from another let the bases be paler in propor- 
 tion, and the loftier they are, the more they should 
 reveal their true shape and colour. | 
 
 (M8. 2038, Bib. Nat. 18 1.) 
 
 HOW THE ATMOSPHERE SHOULD BE REPRESENTED AS 
 PALER IN PROPORTION AS YOU SHOW IT EX= 
 TENDING LOWER 
 
 Since the atmosphere is dense near the ground, and 
 the higher it is the finer it becomes, therefore when the 
 sun is in the east and you look towards the west, 
 taking in a part to the north and to the south, you will 
 see that this dense air receives more light from the sun 
 than the finer air, because the rays encounter more 
 resistance. And if your view of the horizon is bounded 
 by a low plain, that farthest region of the sky will be 
 seen through that thicker whiter atmosphere, and this 
 will destroy the truth of the colour as seen through such a 
 
OF THE ATMOSPHERE 251 
 
 medium ; and the sky will seem whiter there than it 
 does overhead, where the line of vision traverses a lesser 
 space of atmosphere charged with thick vapours. But if 
 you look towards the east the atmosphere will appear 
 darker in proportion as it is lower, for in this lower 
 atmosphere the luminous rays pass less freely. 
 
 (MS. 2038; Bib. Nat. 18 v.) 
 
BOOK IV 
 FANTASY 
 
 FABLES 
 
 Tue unhappy willow on finding herself unable to enjoy 
 the pleasure of seeing her slender boughs attain to such 
 a height as she desired, or even point towards the sky, 
 because she was continually being maimed and lopped 
 and spoiled for the sake of the vine or any other tree 
 which happened to be near, summoned up all her 
 
 faculties and by this means opened wide the portals of 
 
 her imagination, remaining in continual meditation, and 
 seeking in the world of plants for one wherewith to ally 
 herself which could not need the help of her branches. 
 So continuing for a time with her imagination at work, 
 the thought of the gourd suddenly presented itself to her 
 mind, and all her branches quivered in her intense joy, 
 for it seemed to her that she had found the right com- 
 panion for the purpose she desired, because the gourd is 
 by nature more fitted to bind others than to be bound 
 herself. After coming to this conclusion she lifted up 
 her branches towards the sky and waited, on the look- 
 out for some friendly bird to serve as the intermediary 
 of her desire. Among the rest she descried the magpie 
 near to her and said to him, ‘O gentle bird, by the 
 
 refuge you have lately found among my branches at 
 252 
 
 Ti ad ee 
 
FABLES 253 
 
 dawn, when the hungry, cruel, and rapacious falcon has 
 wished to devour you,—by that rest you have often found 
 in me when your wings craved rest,—by those delights 
 you have enjoyed among my branches in amorous 
 dalliance with your companions,—I entreat you to go and 
 seek out the gourd and obtain from her some of her 
 seeds, telling her that I will care for whatever is born 
 from them as though they were my own offspring, and in 
 like manner use all such words as may incline her to the 
 like purpose, though to you who are a master of language 
 there is no need for me to give instruction. If you will 
 do this I am content to let your nest be in the fork of 
 my boughs together with all your family without pay- 
 ment of any rent.’ So the magpie after stipulating with 
 the willow for certain further conditions, the most 
 important being that she should never admit upon her 
 boughs any snake or polecat, cocked his tail and lowered 
 his head, and casting himself loose from the bough let 
 himself float on his wings ; and beating about with these 
 in the fleeting air, seeking hither and thither, and guid- 
 ing himself by using his tail as a rudder, he came to a 
 gourd, and after courteously saluting her obtained by 
 a few polite words the seeds for which he sought. On 
 taking these back to the willow he was welcomed with 
 joyful looks ; and then scraping away with his foot some 
 of the earth near the willow he planted the grains with 
 his beak round about her in a circle. ; 
 
 These soon began to grow, and as the branches increased 
 and opened out they began to cover all the branches of 
 the willow, and their great leaves shut away from it the 
 beauty of the sun and the sky. And all this evil not 
 
254 FABLES 
 
 sufficing, the gourds next began to drag down to the 
 ground in their rude grip the tops of the slender boughs, 
 twisting and distorting them in strange shapes. Then 
 the willow after shaking and tossing herself to no 
 purpose to make the gourds loose their hold, and vainly 
 for days cherishing such idle hopes, since the grasp of 
 the gourds was so sure ard firm as to forbid such 
 thoughts, seeing the wind pass by, forthwith commended 
 herself to it. And the wind blew hard; and it rent 
 open the willow’s old and hollow trunk, tearing it in two 
 parts right down to its roots; and as they fell asunder 
 she vainly bewailed her fate, confessing herself born to 
 no good end. (C. A. 67 7. 4.) 
 
 The thrushes rejoiced greatly on seeing a man catch 
 the owl and take away her liberty by binding her feet 
 with strong bonds. But then by means of birdlime the 
 owl was the cause of the thrushes losing not only their 
 liberty but even their life. This is said of those states 
 which rejoice at seeing their rulers lose their liberty, in 
 consequence of which they afterwards lose hope of 
 succour and remain bound in the power of their enemy, 
 
 losing their liberty and often life. 
 (C. A. 117 7. b.) 
 
 A certain patch of snow finding itself clinging to the 
 top of a rock which was perched on the extreme summit 
 of a very high mountain, being left to its own imagina- 
 tion began to reflect and to say within itself :—‘ Shall I 
 not be thought haughty and proud for having placed 
 myself in so exalted a spot,—being indeed a mere morsel 
 of snow? And for allowing that such a vast quantity of 
 
 i 
 t 
 
FABLES 255 
 
 snow as I see around me should take a lower place than 
 mine? Truly my small dimensions do not deserve this 
 eminence; and in proof of my insignificance I may 
 readily acquaint myself with the fate which but yesterday 
 befell my companions who in a few hours were destroyed 
 by the sun; and this came about from their having placed 
 themselves in a loftier station than was required of them. 
 I will flee from the wrath of the sun, arid abase myself, 
 and find a place that befits my modest size.’ 
 
 Then throwing itself down, it began to descend, rolling 
 down from the lofty crags on to the other snow; and 
 the more it sought a lowly place, the more it increased 
 in bulk, until at last ending its course upon a hill it 
 found itself almost the equal in size of the hill on which 
 it rested, and it was the last of the snow which was 
 melted that summer by the sun. 
 
 This is said for those who by humbling themselves 
 are exalted. (C. A. 67 v. b.) 
 
 A nut. which found itself carried by a crow to the top 
 of a lofty campanile, having there fallen into a crevice 
 and so escaped its deadly beak, besought the wall by that 
 grace which God had bestowed upon it in causing it to 
 be so exalted and great, and so rich in having bells of 
 such beauty and of such mellow tone, that it would deign 
 to give it succour ; that insomuch as it had not been 
 able to drop beneath its old father’s green branches and 
 lie in the fallow earth covered by his fallen leaves the 
 wall would not abandon it, for when it found itself in 
 the fierce crow’s cruel beak it had vowed that if it 
 escaped thence it would end its days in a small hole. At 
 
256 FABLES 
 
 these words the wall, moved with compassion, was content 
 to give it shelter in the spot where it had fallen. And 
 within a short space of time the nut began to burst open 
 and to put its roots in among the crevices of the stones 
 and push them further apart and throw up shoots out 
 of its hollow, and these soon rose above the top of 
 the building ; and as the twisted roots grew thicker they 
 commenced to tear asunder the walls and force the 
 ancient stones out of their old positions. Then the wall too 
 late and in vain deplored the cause of its destruction, 
 and in a short time it was torn asunder and a great part 
 fell in ruin. (C. A. 67 7. a.) 
 
 The privet on feeling its tender branches, laden with 
 new fruit, pricked by the sharp claws and beak of the 
 troublesome blackbird, complained to her with pitiful re- 
 proaches beseeching her that even if she plucked off her 
 delicious fruit she would at any rate not deprive her of her 
 leaves which protected her from the scorching rays of the 
 sun, nor with her sharp claws rend away and strip bare 
 her tender bark. But to this the blackbird replied with 
 insolent rebuke :—‘ Silence! rude. bramble! Know you 
 not that nature has made you to produce these fruits for 
 my sustenance? Cannot you’see that you came into the 
 world in order to supply me with this very food? Know 
 you not, vile thing that you are, that next winter you 
 will serve as sustenance and food for the fire?’ To 
 which words the tree listened patiently and not without 
 tears. 
 
 But a short time afterwards the blackbird was caught 
 in a net, and some boughs were cut to make a cage in 
 
FABLES 257 
 
 order to imprison her, and among the rest were some 
 cut from the tender privet to serve for the rods of the 
 cage ; and these on perceiving that they would be the 
 cause of the blackbird being deprived of liberty rejoiced 
 and uttered these words:—<‘ We are here, O blackbird, 
 not yet consumed by the fire as you said ; we shall see 
 
 you in prison before you see us burnt.’ 
 (C. A. 67 1. a.) 
 
 Some flames had already lived for a month in a glass 
 furnace when they saw a candle approaching in a beautiful 
 and glittering candlestick. They strove with great 
 longing to reach it; and one of their number left its 
 natural course and wound itself into an unburnt brand 
 upon which it fed, and then passed out at the other end 
 by a small cleft to the candle which was near, and flung 
 itself upon it, and devouring it with the utmost voracity 
 and greed consumed it almost entirely; then desirous 
 of prolonging its own life, it strove in vain to return 
 to the furnace which it had left, but was forced to 
 droop and die together with the candle. So at last in 
 lamentation and regret it was changed to foul smoke, 
 leaving all its sisters in glowing and abiding life and 
 beauty. (C. A. 67 1. b.) 
 
 The fig-tree standing near to the elm, and perceiving 
 that her boughs bore no fruit themselves, yet had the 
 hardihood to keep away the sun from her own, unripe 
 figs, rebuked her, saying : ‘O Elm, are you not ashamed 
 to stand in front of me? Only wait until my children 
 are fully grown and you will see where you will find 
 
 yourself,” But when her offspring were ripe a regiment 
 R 
 
258 FABLES 
 
 of soldiers came to the place, and they tore off the branches 
 of the fig-tree in order to take her figs and left her all 
 stripped and broken. 
 
 And as she thus stood maimed in all her limbs the 
 elm questioned her saying, ‘O Fig-tree, how much better 
 was it to be without children than to be brought by ~ 
 them to so wretched a pass?’ (C. A. 76 1. a.) 
 
 Once upon a time the razor emerging from the handle 
 which served it as a sheath, and placing itself in the sun, 
 saw the sun reflected on its surface, at which thing it 
 took great pride, and turning it over in its thoughts it 
 began to say to itself, ‘Am I to go back any more to 
 that shop from which I have just now come away? No 
 surely! It cannot be the pleasure of the gods that such 
 radiant beauty should stoop to such vile uses! What 
 madness would that be which should induce me to scrape 
 the lathered chins of rustic peasants and to do such 
 menial service! Is this body made for actions such as 
 these? Certainly not! I will go and hide myself in 
 some retired spot, and there pass my life in tranquil ease.’ 
 
 And so having hid itself away for some months, re- 
 turning one day to the light and coming out of its sheath 
 it perceived that it had acquired the appearance of a 
 rusty saw, and that its surface no longer reflected the 
 sun’s radiance. In vain with useless repentance it be- 
 moaned its irreparable hurt, saying to itself, ‘Ah how 
 much better would it have been to have let the barber 
 use that lost edge of mine that had so rare a keenness ! 
 Where now is the glittering surface? In truth the foul 
 insidious rust has consumed it away !’ 
 
FABLES 259 
 
 The same thing happens with minds which in lieu of 
 exercise give themselves up to sloth; for these like the 
 razor lose their keen edge, and the rust of ignorance 
 destroys their form. (C. 4.175 2. a.) 
 
 A stone of considerable size, only recently left un- 
 covered by the waters, stood in a certain spot perched up 
 at the edge of a delightful copse, above a stony road, 
 surrounded by plants bright with various flowers of dif- 
 ferent colours, and looked upon the great mass of stones 
 which lay heaped together in the road beneath. And she 
 became filled with longing to let herself down there, saying 
 within herself : ‘ What am I doing here with these plants? 
 I would fain dwell in the company of my sisters yonder’ ; 
 and so letting herself fall she ended her rapid course 
 among her desired companions. But when she had been 
 there for a short time she found herself in continual 
 distress from the wheels of the carts, the iron hoofs of 
 the horses and the feet of the passers-by. One rolled her 
 over, another trampled upon her; and at times she 
 raised herself up a little as she lay covered with mud or 
 the dung of some animal, and vainly looked up at the 
 place from whence she had departed as a place of soli- 
 tude and quiet peace. 
 
 So it happens to those who leaving a life of solitude and 
 contemplation choose to come and dwell in cities among 
 people full of infinite wickedness. (C. A. 175 9. 4.) 
 
 As the painted butterfly was idly wandering and flit- 
 ting about through the darkened air a light came within 
 sight, and thither immediately it directed its course, and 
 
260 FABLES 
 
 flew round about it in varying circles marvelling greatly 
 at such radiant beauty. And not contented merely to 
 behold, it began to treat it as’ was its custom with the 
 fragrant flowers, and directing its flight it approached 
 with bold resolve close to the light, which thereupon con- 
 sumed the tips of its wings and legs and the other extremi- 
 ties ; and then dropping down at the foot of it, it began 
 to consider with astonishment how this accident had 
 been brought about, for it could not so much as enter- 
 tain a thought that any evil or hurt could possibly come 
 to it from a thing so beautiful; and then having in part 
 regained the strength which it had lost, it took another 
 flight and passed right through the body of the flame, — 
 and in an instant fell down burned into the oil which 
 fed the flame, preserving only so much life as sufficed 
 it to reflect upon the cause of its destruction, saying to 
 it, ‘O accursed light! I thought that in you I had 
 found my happiness! Vainly do I lament my mad 
 desire, and by my ruin I have come to know your 
 rapacious and destructive nature.’ 
 
 To which the light replied, ‘Thus do I treat whoever 
 does not know how to use me aright.’ 
 
 This is said for those who when they see before them 
 these carnal and worldly delights, hasten towards them 
 like the butterfly, without ever taking thought as to their 
 nature, which they know after long usage to their 
 shame and loss. (C. A. 257 r. 3.) 
 
 The flint on ‘being struck by the steel marvelled 
 greatly and said to it in a stern voice, ‘ What arrogance 
 prompts you to annoy me? Trouble me not, for you 
 
FABLES 261 
 
 have chosen me by mistake; I have never done harm 
 to anyone.’ To which the steel made answer, ‘If you 
 will be patient you will see what a marvellous result will 
 issue forth from you.’ At these words the flint was 
 pacified and patiently endured its martyrdom, and it saw 
 itself give birth to the marvellous element of fire which 
 by its potency became a factor in innumerable things. 
 This is said for those who are dismayed at the outset of 
 their studies, and then set out to gain the mastery over 
 themselves and in patience to apply themselves con- 
 tinuously to these studies, from which one sees result 
 things marvellous to relate. (OLR SAL: 
 
 The water on finding itself in the proud sea, its ele- 
 ment, was seized with a desire to rise above the air; and 
 aided by the element of fire, having mounted up in thin 
 vapour, it seemed almost as thin as the air itself; and 
 after it had risen to a great height it came to where the 
 air was more rarefied and colder, and there it was aban- 
 doned by the fire; and the small particles being pressed 
 together were united and became heavy; and dropping 
 from thence its pride was put to rout, and it fell from 
 the sky and was then drunk up by the parched earth, 
 where for a long time it lay imprisoned and did penance 
 for its sin. (S. K. M, ii. 21.) 
 
 — The lily planted itself down upon the bank of the 
 Ticino, and the stream carried away the bank and with 
 
 it the lily. (H 44 7.) 
 
 The oyster being thrown out with other fish near to 
 the sea from the house of a fisherman, prayed to a rat to 
 
ALLEGORIES 263 
 
 yet by the help of an instructor itself produces the most 
 useful virtues. 
 
 One pushes down another : by these cubes’ are repre- 
 sented the life and conditions of mankind. (G 89 7.) 
 
 [FOR AN ALLEGORICAL REPRESENTATION | 
 
 Il Moro, as the figure of Fortune with hair and robes 
 and with hands held in front, and Messer Gualtieri with 
 act of obeisance plucks him by the robes from below as 
 he presents himself before him. 
 
 Also Poverty as a hideous figure running behind a 
 youth, whom Il Moro covers with the skirt of his robe 
 while he threatens the monster with his gilded sceptre. 
 
 (I 138 [go] ».) 
 [FOR AN ALLEGORICAL REPRESENTATION | 
 
 Il Moro with the spectacles and Envy represented 
 with lying Slander, and Justice black for Il Moro. 
 
 Labour with the vine in her hand. (H 88 [40] .) 
 
 The great bird will take its first flight upon the back 
 of the great swan, filling the whole world with amaze- 
 ment and filling all records with its fame; and it will 
 bring eternal glory to the nest where it was born. 
 
 (Sul Volo degli Uccelli, cover, 2 r.) 
 
 To write thus clearly of the kite would seem to be my 
 destiny, because in the earliest recollections of my infancy 
 it seemed to me when I was in the cradle that a kite 
 came and opened my mouth with its tail and struck me 
 within upon the lips with its tail many times. 
 
 (C. A. 66, 0. 6.) 
 1 MS. has a diagram with dice. 
 
264 A FANTASTIC TALE 
 
 Dear Benepetro,—To give you the news of the 
 things here from the east, you must know that in the 
 month of June there appeared a giant who came from 
 the Libyan desert. This giant was born on Mount 
 Atlas, and was black, and he fought against Artaxerxes 
 with the Egyptians and Arabs, the Medes and Persians ; 
 he lived in the sea upon the whales, the great leviathans 
 and the ships. When the savage giant fell by reason 
 of the ground being covered over with blood and mire, 
 it seemed as though a mountain had fallen ; whereat the 
 country [shook] as though there were an earthquake, 
 with terror to Pluto in hell, and Mars fearing for his 
 life fled for refuge under the side of Jove.1 And from 
 the violence of the shock he lay prostrate on the level 
 ground as though stunned; until suddenly the people 
 believing that he had been killed by some thunderbolt, 
 began to turn about his great beard ; and like a flock 
 of ants that range about hither and thither furiously 
 among the brambles beaten down by the axe of the 
 sturdy peasant, so these are hurrying about over his 
 huge limbs and piercing them with frequent wounds. 
 At this the giant being roused, and perceiving himself 
 to be almost covered by the crowd, suddenly on feeling 
 himself smarting from their stabs, uttered a roar which 
 seemed as though it were a terrific peal of thunder, and 
 set his hands on the ground and lifted up his awe- 
 inspiring countenance ; and then placing one of his hands 
 
 1 MS. ‘Marte temédo dela vita sera fugito sotto lato dj giove.. These 
 words in Leonardo’s writing occur at the side and are not found in the 
 transcript of the Italian edition. I have ventured to insert them where they 
 
 seemed to best fit the sense, and also to change the order of some of the 
 sentences which are written in the margin, 
 
A FANTASTIC TALE 265 
 
 upon his head, he perceived it to be covered with men 
 sticking to the hairs after the fashion of tiny creatures 
 which are sometimes harboured there, and who, as they 
 clung to the hairs and strove to hide among them, were 
 like sailors in a storm who mount the rigging in order 
 to lower the sail and lessen the force of the wind; and 
 at this point he shook his head and sent the men flying 
 through the air after the manner of hail when it is driven 
 by the fury of the winds, and many of these men were 
 found to be killed by those who fell on them like a tempest. 
 Then he stood erect, trampling upon them with his feet. 
 
 (C. 4. 311 7. 4.) 
 
 The black visage at first sight is most horrible and 
 terrifying to look upon, especially the swollen and blood- 
 shot eyes set beneath the awful lowering eyebrows which 
 cause the sky to be overcast and the earth to tremble. 
 And believe me there is no man so brave but that, when 
 the fiery eyes were turned upon him, he would willingly 
 have put on wings in order to escape, for the face of 
 infernal Lucifer would seem angelic by contrast with this. 
 
 The nose was turned up in a snout with wide nostrils 
 and sticking out of these were quantities of large bristles, 
 beneath which was the arched mouth, with the thick lips, 
 at whose extremities were hairs like those of cats, and 
 the teeth were yellow. He towered above the heads of 
 men on horseback from the top of his feet upwards. 
 
 And as his cramped position had been irksome, and in 
 order to rid himself of the impertunity of the throng, 
 his rage turned to frenzy, and he began to let his feet 
 give vent to the frenzy which possessed his mighty limbs, 
 
266 A FANTASTIC TALE 
 
 and entering in among the crowd he began by his kicks to 
 toss men up in the air, so that they fell down again upon 
 the rest as though there had been a thick storm of hail, 
 and many were those who in dying dealt out death. And 
 this barbarity continued until such time as the dust stirred 
 up by his great feet, rising up in the air, compelled his 
 infernal fury to abate, while we continued our flight. 
 Alas, how many attacks were made upon this raging 
 fiend to whom every onslaught was as nothing! O 
 wretched folk, for you there avail not the impregnable 
 fortresses, nor the lofty walls of your cities, nor the being 
 together in great numbers, nor your houses or palaces ! 
 There remained not any place unless it were the tiny 
 holes and subterranean caverns where after the manner 
 of crabs and crickets and creatures like these you might 
 find safety and a means of escape. Oh, how many 
 wretched mothers and fathers were deprived of their 
 children! How many unhappy women were deprived 
 of their companions! In truth, my dear Benedetto, I 
 do not believe that ever since the world was created 
 there has been witnessed such lamentation and wailing 
 of people accompanied by so great terror. In truth, 
 the human species in such a plight has need to envy 
 every other race of creatures; for though the eagle has 
 strength sufficient to subdue the other birds, they yet 
 remain unconquered through the rapidity of their flight, 
 and so the swallows through their speed escape becoming 
 the prey of the falcon, and the dolphins also by their 
 swift flight escape becoming the prey of the whales and 
 of the mighty leviathans; but for us wretched mortals 
 there avails not any flight, since this monster when 
 
PROPHECIES 267 
 
 advancing slowly far exceeds the speed of the swiftest 
 courser. 
 
 I know not what to say or do for everywhere I seem 
 to find myself swimming with bent head within the 
 mighty throat and remaining indistinguishable in death, 
 buried within the huge belly. (C. A. 96 2. 4.) 
 
 PROPHECIES 
 
 THE DIVISIONS OF THE PROPHECIES 
 
 First of things which relate to the reasoning animals, 
 second those which have not the power of reason, 
 third of plants, fourth of ceremonies, fifth of customs, 
 sixth of propositions, decrees or disputes, seventh of 
 propositions contrary to nature (as to speak of a substance 
 which the more there is taken from it is the more 1n- 
 creased), and reserve the weighty propositions until the 
 end, and begin with those of less import, and show first 
 the evils and then the punishments, eighth of philosophical 
 things. 
 
 I 
 OF FOOD WHICH HAS BEEN ALIVE 
 
 A large part of the bodies which have had life will 
 pass into the bodies of other animals, that is the houses 
 no longer inhabited will pass piecemeal through those 
 which are inhabited, ministering to their needs and bear- 
 ing away with them what is waste; that is to say that 
 the life of man is made by the things which he eats, and 
 
 that these carry with them that part of man which is 
 dead. 
 
268 PROPHECIES 
 
 OF MEN WHO SLEEP UPON PLANKS MADE FROM TREES 
 
 Men will sleep and eat and make their dwelling among 
 trees grown in the forests and the fields. 
 
 OF DREAMING 
 
 It shall seem to men that they see new destructions in 
 the sky, and the flames descending therefrom shall seem 
 to have taken flight and to flee away in terror; they 
 shall hear creatures of every kind speaking human lan- 
 guage ; they shall run in a moment in person to divers 
 parts of the world without movement ; amidst the dark- 
 ness they shall see the most radiant splendours. O 
 marvel of mankind! What frenzy has thus impelled 
 you! You shall hold converse with animals of every 
 species, and they with you in human language. You shall 
 behold yourselves falling from great heights without 
 suffering any injury; the torrents will bear you with 
 them as they, mingle in their rapid course. 
 
 OF CHILDREN WHO ARE WRAPPED IN SWADDLING BANDS 
 
 O cities of the sea, I behold in you your citizens, women 
 as well as men, tightly bound with stout bonds around 
 their arms and legs by folk who will have no under- 
 standing of our speech; and you will only be able to 
 give vent to your griefs and sense of loss of liberty by 
 making tearful complaints and sighs and lamentation 
 one to another, for those who bind you will not have 
 understanding of your speech nor will you understand 
 them. (C. A. 145 1. 4.) 
 
PROPHECIES 269 
 
 OF REAPERS 
 
 There will be many who will be moving one against 
 another, holding in their hands the sharp cutting iron. 
 These will not do each other any hurt other than that 
 caused by fatigue, for as one leans forward the other 
 _ draws back an equal space ; but woe to him who inter- 
 venes between them, for in the end he will be left cut in 
 pieces. 
 
 OF THOSE WHO ARE BEATEN AND SCOURGED 
 
 Men will hide themselves within the bark of hollow 
 trees, and there crying aloud they will make martyrs of 
 themselves by beating their own limbs. 
 
 OF DREAMING 
 
 Men shall walk without moving, they shall speak with 
 those who are absent, they shall hear those who do not 
 speak. 
 
 OF SOLDIERS ON HORSEBACK 
 
 Many shall be seen carried by large animals with great 
 speed to the loss of their lives and to instant death. 
 
 In the air and on the earth shall be seen animals of 
 
 different colours bearing men furiously to the destruc- 
 tion of their lives. (C. A. 370 1. a.) 
 
 You shall behold the bones of the dead by their rapid 
 movement directing the fortunes of their mover :—The 
 dice. (I 64 [16] 2.) 
 
 Men will deal rude blows to that which is the cause 
 of their life :—-They will thrash the grain. 
 
270 PROPHECIES 
 
 The skins of animals will make men rouse from their 
 silence with loud cries and oaths :—Balls for playing 
 
 games. 
 
 The wind which passes through the skins of animals 
 will make men leap up :—That is the bag-pipes which 
 cause men to dance. (I [65] 17 r.) 
 
 OF CHILDREN WHO TAKE THE BREAST 
 
 Many Franciscans, Dominicans, and Benedictines will 
 eat that which has recently been eaten by others, and 
 they will remain many months before being able to 
 speak. | (I 67 [19] r.) 
 
 OF SHOEMAKERS 
 
 Men will take a pleasure in seeing their own works 
 worn out and destroyed. (8. K. M. ii, 61 2.) 
 
 II 
 
 OF ANTS 
 Many communities will there be who will hide them- 
 selves and their young and their victuals within gloomy 
 caverns, and there in dark places will sustain themselves 
 and their families for many months without any light 
 either artificial or natural. 
 
 OF BEES 
 
 And many others will be robbed of their store of 
 provisions and their food, and by an insensate folk 
 will be cruelly immersed and drowned. O justice 
 of God! why dost thou not awake to behold thy 
 
 creatures thus abused ? 
 
PROPHECIES 271 
 
 OF SHEEP, COWS, GOATS AND THE LIKE 
 
 From countless numbers will be stolen their little 
 children, and the throats of these shall be cut, and they 
 shall be quartered most barbarously. © 
 
 OF CATS THAT EAT RATS 
 
 In you, O cities of Africa! your own. sons shall be 
 seen torn to pieces within their own houses by most 
 cruel and savage animals of your country. 
 
 OF ASSES WHICH ARE BEATEN 
 
 O neglectful nature, wherefore art thou thus partial, 
 becoming to some of thy children a tender and benig- 
 nant mother, to others a most cruel and ruthless step- 
 mother? I see thy children given into slavery to others 
 without ever receiving any benefit, and in lieu of any 
 reward for the services they have done for them they 
 are repaid by the severest punishments, and they con- 
 
 stantly spend their lives in the service of their oppressor. 
 (C. A. 145 7. a.) 
 
 OF SNAKES CARRIED BY SWANS 
 
 Serpents of huge size will be seen at an immense 
 height in the air fighting with birds. (C. A. 129 ©. 2.) 
 
 OF THE BELLS OF MULES WHICH ARE CLOSE TO 
 THEIR EARS 
 
 There shall be heard in many parts of Europe instru- 
 ments of various sizes making divers melodies, causing 
 great weariness to those who hear them most closely. 
 
272 PROPHECIES 
 
 OF ASSES 
 
 The many labours shall be repaid by hunger, thirst, 
 wretchedness, blows, and goadings. 
 
 OF THE HAFTS OF KNIVES MADE OF RAMS HORNS 
 
 In the horns of animals shall be seen sharp irons which 
 shall take away the lives of many of their species. 
 (C. A. 370 7, 4.) 
 
 OF BOWS MADE FROM THE HORNS OF OXEN 
 
 Many there will be who by means of the horns of 
 cattle will die a painful death, (C. A. 370 0. a.) 
 
 You will see the lion tribe tearing open the earth with 
 hooked claws, and burying themselves in the holes that 
 they have made together with the other animals which 
 are in subjection to them. 
 
 There shall come forth from the ground creatures clad 
 in darkness who shall attack the human race with tre- 
 mendous onslaughts, and it shall have the blood poisoned 
 by their fierce bites even while it is devoured by 
 them. 
 
 There shall also hurtle through the air a tribe of 
 dreadful winged creatures who shall attack both men and 
 beasts and feed upon them with loud cries.—They shall 
 fill their bellies full of crimson blood. (163 [15] r.) 
 
 Oxen shall by their horns protect the fire from death : 
 —The lantern. (1 64 [16] v.) 
 
PROPHECIES 273 
 
 OF COCKLES AND SEA-SNAILS CAST UP BY THE SEA 
 WHICH ROT WITHIN THEIR SHELLS 
 
 How many shall there be who after they are dead will 
 lie rotting in their own houses, filling all the air around 
 with their foul stench. (1 67 [19] r.) 
 
 OF KIDS 
 
 The time of Herod shall return ; for the innocent 
 children shall be torn away from their nurses and shall 
 die of great wounds at the hands of cruel men. 
 
 (8. Ke M. ii. 9 2.) 
 
 The oxen will become in great part the cause of the 
 destruction of cities and so likewise will horses and 
 buffaloes :—They draw the guns. = (B. M. 263, Ar. 42 4.) 
 
 II 
 OF NUTS, OLIVES, ACORNS, CHESTNUTS, AND THE LIKE 
 Many children shall be torn with pitiless beatings out 
 
 of the very arms of their mothers and flung upon the 
 ground and then maimed. (C. A. 145 r. a.) 
 
 OF WOOD THAT IS BURNT 
 
 The trees and shrubs of the vast forests shall be 
 changed to ashes. 
 
 OF FLAX WHEREBY PAPER IS MADE OUT OF RAGS 
 
 That shall be revered and honoured and its precepts 
 shall be listened to with reverence and love, which was 
 
 at first despised and mangled and tortured with many 
 different blows. 
 
274 PROPHECIES 
 
 OF WOODEN COFFERS WHICH ENCLOSE MANY TREASURES 
 Within walnuts and other trees and plants there shall 
 be found very great treasures which lie hidden there. 
 (C. A. 370 7. 4.) 
 
 The forests will bring forth young who will become 
 the cause of their death.—The handle of the hatchet. 
 
 (1 64 [16] 2). 
 
 OF NUT TREES WHICH ARE BEATEN 
 
 Those which have done best will be most beaten, and 
 their children will be carried off and stripped or de- 
 spoiled, and their bones broken and crushed. 
 
 (7 65 [17] 2.) 
 
 OF TREES WHICH GIVE SAP TO GRAFTED SHOOTS 
 
 Fathers and mothers shall be seen to bestow much 
 more attention upon their step-children than upon their 
 own children. (B. M. 263, Ar. 212 4.) 
 
 OF THE MOWING DOWN OF GRASS 
 
 Innumerable lives will be extinguished, and innumer- 
 able vacant spaces created upon the earth. 
 (S. K. M. it. 34 1.) 
 
 IV 
 
 OF CHRISTIANS 
 There are many who hold the faith of the Son and 
 only build temples in the name of the Mother. 
 (C. A. 145 7. a) 
 
PLATE 13 
 
 ; . 4 
 ak 
 \ My ts ON: ae 
 m~ i xe ; 4 
 re i ase 
 ad 
 
 woke 
 
 ANEMONE NEMOROSA 
 
 IFERUM 
 
 4 
 
 ORNITHOGALUM UMBELI 
 
 ANUNCULUS REPENS 
 
 ’ 
 . 
 
 (Wood Anemone) 
 
 EUPHORBIA ESULA 
 
 (Star of Bethlehem) 
 
 (Creeping Cr oufvot) 
 
 (Leafy-Branched Spurge) 
 
 Face p. 274 
 
aye 
 
PROPHECIES 275 
 
 OF FUNERAL RITES AND PROCESSIONS AND LIGHTS 
 AND BELLS AND FOLLOWERS 
 The greatest honours and ceremonies shall be paid to 
 men without their knowledge. (C. A. 145 9. 4.) 
 
 OF THE WORSHIPPING OF PICTURES OF SAINTS 
 Men shall speak with men who shall not hear them ; 
 their eyes shall be open and they shall not see; they 
 will speak to them and there shall be no reply; they 
 will ask pardon from one who has ears and does not 
 hear ; they will-offer light to one who is blind, and to 
 the deaf they will appeal with loud clamour.’ 
 
 OF THE LAMENTATIONS MADE ON GOOD FRIDAY 
 
 In all the parts of Europe there shall be lamentations 
 
 by great nations for the death of one man.” 
 (C. A. 370 r. a) 
 
 OF REMOVING ON ALL SAINTS DAY 
 Many shall leave their own dwellings and shall carry 
 with them all their goods and go to dwell in other lands. 
 
 OF ALL SOULS’ DAY 
 How many will there be who will mourn for their 
 dead ancestors, carrying lights for them ! 
 
 OF FRIARS WHO BY SPENDING ONLY WORDS RECEIVE 
 GREAT RICHES AND BESTOW PARADISE 
 Invisible money will cause many who spend it to 
 triumph. (C. A, 370 2. a.) 
 
 1 MS. ‘faran lume a [chi] @ orbo[. . .] sordi con gran [. . .Jore.’ 
 2 “Who died in the East’ follows in MS. but is crossed out. 
 
296 PROPHECIES 
 
 OF THE RELIGION OF THE FRIARS WHO LIVE BY MEANS 
 OF THE SAINTS WHO HAVE BEEN DEAD FOR A 
 LONG TIME 
 
 - Those who are dead will after a thousand years be 
 
 those who will make provision for many of the living. 
 (I 66 [18] 2.) 
 
 OF PRIESTS WHO SAY MASS 
 
 Many shall there be who in order to practise their 
 calling shall put on the richest vestments, and these shall 
 seem to be made after the manner of aprons. 
 
 OF FRIARS WHO HOLD CONFESSION 
 
 The unhappy women of their own accord shall go to 
 
 reveal to men all their wantonness and their shameful 
 and most secret acts. 
 
 OF THE CHURCHES AND HABITATIONS OF FRIARS 
 
 There will be many who will abandon work and 
 labour and poverty of life and possessions, and will go 
 to dwell among riches and in splendid buildings, pre- 
 
 tending that this is a means of becoming acceptable — 
 
 to God. 
 
 OF THE SELLI.. OF PARADISE 
 
 A countless multitude wiu sell publicly and without 
 hindrance things of the very greatest value without 
 licence from the Lord of these things, which were never 
 theirs nor in their power ; and human justice will take 
 no account of this. 
 
 +m 
 
 | ee ee ee a ee Se 
 
 a ed 
 
PROPHECIES 277 
 
 OF THE DEAD WHO ARE TAKEN TO BE BURIED 
 
 The simple folk will carry a great number of lights 
 to light up the journeys of all those who have wholly 
 lost the power of sight! O human folly! O madness 
 of mankind! These two phrases stand for the com- 
 mencement of the matter. (C. A. 370 ». 2.) 
 
 OF SCULPTURE 
 
 Alas ! whom do I see? The Saviour crucified again. 
 (7 65 [17] v.) 
 
 OF CRUCIFIXES WHICH ARE SOLD 
 
 I see Christ again sold and crucified and His saints 
 suffering martyrdom. (7 66 [18] v.) 
 
 OF PRIESTS WHO BEAR THE HOST IN THEIR BODIES 
 
 Then almost all the tabernacles where dwells the 
 Corpus Domini will be plainly visible walking about of 
 themselves on the different roads of the world. 
 
 (7 65 [17] &.) 
 
 OF THE THURIBLE WITH INCENSE 
 
 Some shall go about in white vestments with arrogant 
 gestures threatening others with metal and fire, which 
 
 yet have never done them any harm. 
 (B. M. 263, Ar. 212 5.) 
 
 And many have made a trade in deceits and feigned 
 miracles, cozening the foolish herd, and if no one 
 showed himself cognisant of their deceits they would 
 impose them upon all. (F 5 2.) 
 
278 PROPHECIES 
 Frati Santi spells Pharisees. (Tr. Tav. 63 a.) 
 
 That shall be drowned which supplies the light for 
 divine service :—The bees which make the wax for 
 the candles. (B. M. 263, Ar. 42 4.) 
 
 Vv 
 
 OF SILK SPINNING 
 
 There shall be heard mournful cries, and loud shrieks, 
 hoarse, angry voices of those who are tortured and 
 despoiled and at last left naked and motionless; and 
 this shall be by reason of the motive power which turns 
 the whole. 
 
 OF FEATHERS IN BEDS 
 
 Flying creatures will support men with their 
 feathers. | 
 
 OF THE SOLES OF SHOES WHICH ARE OF LEATHER 
 
 Over a great part of the country men shall be seen 
 walking about on the skins of large animals, 
 
 OF A STICK WHICH IS A DEAD THING 
 The movement of the dead shall cause many who 
 are living to flee away with grief and lamentation 
 and cries. 
 
 OF BEATING THE BED TO REMAKE IT 
 
 To such a pitch of ingratitude shall men come that 
 that which shall give them lodging without any price 
 shall be loaded with blows, in such a way that great parts 
 of the inside of it shall be detached from their place and 
 shall be turned over and over within it. 
 
PROPHECIES 279 
 
 OF SHIPS THAT FOUNDER 
 
 There shall be seen huge bodies devoid of life, carrying 
 great numbers of men with fierce speed to the destruc- 
 tion of their lives. (GpAs3 70,674) 
 
 OF SAILING IN SHIPS 
 
 The trees of the vast forests of Taurus and of Sinai, of 
 the Apennines and of Atlas’ shall be seen speeding by 
 means of the air from East to West, and from North to 
 South, and transporting by means of the air a great 
 quantity of men. O, how many vows! How many 
 deaths! What partings ’twixt friends and relatives shall 
 there be! How many who shall never more behold 
 their own lands or their native country, and shall die un- 
 sepulchred and their bones be scattered in divers parts 
 of the world. (C. A. 370 v. 4.) 
 
 Feathers shall raise men even as they do birds towards 
 heaven :—That is by letters written with their quills. 
 
 (I 64 [16] ¢.) 
 
 Many times the thing that is severed becomes the cause 
 
 of great union :—That is the comb made up of split canes 
 
 which unites the threads in the silk. (7 65 [17] r.) 
 
 And those who feed the air will turn night into 
 day :—Tallow. (I 66 [18] r.) 
 
 OF DOCTORS WHO LIVE UPON THE SICK 
 
 Men will come to such a state of misery that they will 
 be grateful that others should profit by their sufferings, 
 
 or by the loss of their true riches, that is health. 
 (I 66 [18] 2.) 
 1 MS. § talas.” 
 
280 PROPHECIES 
 
 OF CANNON WHICH COME FORTH OUT OF A PIT 
 AND FROM A MOULD 
 
 There shall come forth from beneath the ground that 
 which by its terrific report shall stun all who are near it 
 and cause men to drop dead at its breath, and it shall 
 devastate cities and castles. (C. A. 129 2. a.) 
 
 OF CORN AND OTHER SEEDS 
 
 Men shall throw away out of their houses those 
 victuals which were meant for the sustenance of their 
 lives. (B. M. 263, Ar. 212 4.) 
 
 Many there will be who will wax great in destruc- 
 tion :—The ball of snow rolling over the snow. 
 
 There will be a great host, who, forgetful of their exist- 
 ence and their name, will lie as dead upon the spoils of 
 other dead :—Sleeping upon the feathers of birds. 
 
 Oh! how many great buildings will be ruined by 
 
 reason of fire :—By the fire of the guns. 
 (B. M, 263, Ar. 42 3.) 
 
 vI 
 OF PLOUGHED LAND 
 The earth will be seen turned upside down and facing 
 
 the opposite hemispheres, and laying bare the holes 
 where lurk the fiercest animals. 
 
 OF BRICKKILNS AND LIMEKILNS 
 
 At the last the earth will become red after being 
 
 exposed to fire for many days, and the stones will 
 become changed to ashes. 
 
PROPHECIES 281 
 
 OF BOOKS WHICH INCULCATE PRECEPTS 
 
 Bodies without souls shall by their sayings supply 
 precepts which shall help us to die well. 
 
 OF THE SHADOW THAT MOVES WITH MAN 
 
 There shall be seen shapes and figures of men and 
 animals which shall pursue these men and animals where- 
 soever they flee ; and the movements of the one shall be 
 as those of the other, but it shall seem a thing to wonder 
 at because of the different dimensions which they assume. 
 
 (C, A. 370 r. 4.) 
 
 OF THE SHADOW CAST BY MAN AT NIGHT WITH A LIGHT 
 
 There shall appear huge figures in human shape, and 
 the nearer to you they approach the more will their 
 immense size diminish. (K 50 [1] 2.) 
 
 OF THE SHADOW CAST BY THE SUN AND OF THE RE- 
 FLECTION IN THE WATER SEEN AT ONE AND THE 
 SAME TIME 
 
 Many times one man shall be seen to change into 
 three and all shall proceed together, and often the one 
 that is most real abandons him, 
 
 OF THE WALLS OF CITIES REFLECTED IN THE 
 WATER OF THEIR TRENCHES 
 
 The high walls of mighty cities shall be seen inverted 
 in their trenches. 
 
282 PROPHECIES 
 
 OF THE WATER WHICH FLOWS IN A TURBID STREAM 
 MINGLED WITH EARTH, AND OF THE DUST AND 
 MIST MINGLING WITH THE AIR AND OF THE FIRE 
 WHICH MINGLES ITS HEAT WITH EACH 
 
 All the elements shall be seen confounded together, 
 surging in huge rolling mass, now towards the centre of 
 the earth, now towards the sky ; at one time coursing in 
 fury from the southern regions towards the icy North, 
 at another time from the East to the West, and so again 
 from this hemisphere to the other. | 
 
 OF THE NIGHT WHEN ONE CANNOT DISTINGUISH 
 ANY COLOUR 
 
 It shall even come to pass that it will be impossible to 
 tell the difference between colours, for all will become 
 black in hue. 
 
 OF SWORDS AND SPEARS WHICH OF THEMSELVES 
 NEVER DO HARM TO ANY ONE 
 
 That which of itself is gentle and void of all offence 
 will become terrible and ferocious by reason of evil 
 companionship, and will take the lives of many people 
 with the utmost cruelty; and it would slay many more 
 if it were not that these are protected by bodies which 
 are themselves without life, which have come forth out 
 of pits,—that is by cuirasses of iron. 
 
 OF FIRE 
 
 From small beginnings shall arise that which shall 
 rapidly become great; and it shall have respect for no 
 
PROPHECIES 283 
 
 created thing, but its power shall be such as to enable 
 it to transform almost everything from its natural 
 condition. (C. A. 370 1. a.) 
 
 OF WRITING LETTERS FROM ONE COUNTRY TO ANOTHER 
 
 Men from the most remote countries shall speak one 
 to another and shall reply. 
 
 OF THE HEMISPHERES WHICH ARE INFINITE AND DIVIDED 
 BY AN INFINITE NUMBER OF LINES IN SUCH A 
 WAY THAT EVERY MAN HAS ALWAYS ONE OF THESE 
 LINES BETWEEN HIS FEET 
 
 Men shall speak with and touch and embrace each 
 other while standing each in different hemispheres, and 
 shall understand each other’s language. 
 
 (C. A. 370 9. a.) 
 
 The works of men’s hands will become the cause of 
 their death :—Swords and spears. (I 64 [16] v.) 
 
 OF STONES CHANGED INTO LIME WITH WHICH 
 PRISON WALLS ARE BUILT 
 
 Many things which have previously been destroyed by 
 
 fire will deprive many men of their liberty. 
 (1 66 [18] 2.) 
 
 VII 
 
 You shall see plants continuing without leaves and 
 rivers standing still in their courses. 
 
 The water of the sea shall rise above the high summits 
 of the mountains towards the sky, and it shall fall down 
 again on to the dwellings of men :—That is as clouds. 
 
284 PROPHECIES 
 
 Men shall cast away their own food :—That is in 
 sowing. (I 63 [15] 2.) 
 
 The generation of men shall come to such a pass as 
 not to understand one another’s speech :—That is a 
 German with a Turk. 
 
 Men shall come forth out of the graves changed to 
 winged creatures, and they shall attack other men, taking 
 away their food even from their hands and tables :— 
 The flies. 
 
 Many there will be who will flay their own mother 
 and fold back her skin :—The tillers of the ground. 
 
 (I 64 [16] 7.) — 
 
 Many creatures of the earth and of the water will 
 mount up among the stars :—The Planets. 
 
 You shall see the dead carrying the living in divers 
 parts of the world :—The chariots and ships. | 
 
 From many the food shall be taken away out of their 
 mouths :—From ovens. 
 
 And those who have their mouths filled by the 
 hands of others shall have the food taken away out of 
 their mouths :—The oven. (I 66 [18] r.) 
 
 Snow in summer shall be gathered on the high moun- 
 tain peaks and carried to warm places, and there be let 
 to fall down when festivals are held in the piazza in the 
 time of summer. (Sul Volo degli Uccelli, 14 [13] r.) 
 
 The east shall be seen to rush into the west and the 
 south to the north, whirling themselves round about 
 the universe with great noise and trembling :—The 
 wind from the east.which rushes into the west. 
 
PROPHECIES 285 
 
 The rays of the sun will kindle fire on the earth 
 whereby shall be set alight that which is beneath the 
 sky, and reflected by whatever withstands their course 
 they will turn downwards :—The concave mirror kindles 
 the fire with which the oven is heated, and this has a 
 foundation that stands beneath its roof. 
 
 A great part of the sea will fly towards the sky, 
 and for a long time it will not return :—That is in 
 clouds. 
 
 There remains the motion which separates the mover 
 from the thing moved. 
 
 The dead shall come forth from under the earth, and 
 by their fierce movements shall drive out of the world 
 innumerable human creatures :—The iron which comes 
 from under the earth is dead, and it makes the weapons 
 wherewith so many men have been slain. 
 
 The greatest mountains even though they are remote 
 from the sea borders will drive the sea from its place :— 
 That is by the rivers which carry down the soil they 
 have taken from the mountains and deposit it upon 
 the seashores; and where the earth comes the sea 
 retires. 
 
 The water fallen from the clouds, which continue to 
 move along the bases of the mountains, will stay for a 
 long time without making any movement, and this will 
 take place in many and divers regions :—Snow which 
 falls in flakes,—which is water. 
 
 e 
 
 The great rocks of the mountains will dart forth fire, 
 
286 PROPHECIES 
 
 such that they will burn up the timber of many vast 
 forests and many beasts both wild and tame :—The flint 
 of the tinder-box,—which makes a fire that consumes all 
 the loads of faggots of which the forests are cleared, 
 
 and with this the flesh of beasts is cooked. 
 (B..M. 263, ar aaa 
 
 VIII 
 
 OF ADVICE 
 He who shall be most necessary to whoever has need 
 of him will be unknown, and if known will be held of 
 less account. (Co A. .37 Bat) 
 
 All those things which in the winter are concealed and 
 hidden beneath the snow will be left bare and exposed 
 in summer :—Said of a lie which cannot remain hidden. 
 
 (7 39 2.) 
 
 OF THE FEAR OF POVERTY 
 The malevolent and- terrifying thing shall of itself 
 strike such terror into men that almost like madmen 
 while thinking to escape from it they will rush in swift 
 course upon its boundless forces. (C. A. 37 0.6) 
 
 Happy will be those who give ear to the words of the 
 dead :—The reading of good books and the observing 
 of their precepts. . (I 64. [16] r.) 
 
 Men will pursue the thing they most fear :—That is 
 they will be miserable lest they should fall into misery. 
 
 Things severed shall be united and shall acquire of 
 themselves such virtue that they shall restore to men 
 
PROPHECIES 287 
 
 their lost memory :—That is, the papyrus sheets which 
 are formed out of severed strips and preserve the 
 
 memory of the thoughts and deeds of men. 
 (I 64 [16] 2.) 
 
 OF THE SKINS OF ANIMALS WHICH HAVE THE SENSE 
 OF FEELING OF WHAT IS WRITTEN THERE 
 
 The more you converse with skins covered over with 
 sentiments, the more you will acquire wisdom. 
 
 OF THE MOUTH OF MAN WHICH IS A TOMB | 
 
 There shall come forth loud noises out of the tombs 
 of those who have died by an evil and violent death. 
 (7 65 [17] 2.) 
 OF THE AVARICIOUS 
 Many there shall be who with the utmost zeal and 
 solicitude will pursue furiously that which has always filled 
 them with awe, not knowing its evil nature. 
 
 OF MEN WHO AS THEY GROW OLDER BECOME MORE 
 MISERLY, WHEREAS HAVING BUT A SHORT TIME TO 
 STAY THEY OUGHT TO BE MORE GENEROUS 
 
 You will see that those who are considered to be of 
 most experience and judgment, in proportion as they 
 come to have less need of things, seek and hoard them 
 with more eagerness. (C. A. 370% 4.) 
 
 OF MONEY AND GOLD 
 That shall come forth from hollow caves which shall 
 cause all the nations of the world to toil and sweat with 
 great agitation, anxiety and labour, in order to gain its 
 aid. } ; (C. A. 37 0. &) 
 
288 PROPHECIES 
 
 OF THE PRECIOUS METALS 
 
 There shall come forth out of dark and gloomy caves 
 that which shall cause the whole human race to undergo 
 great afflictions, perils, and death. To many of those 
 who follow it, after much tribulation it will yield delight ; 
 but whosoever pays it no homage will die in want and 
 misery. It shall bring to pass an endless number of | 
 crimes ; it shall prompt and incite wretched men to 
 assassinate, to steal, and to enslave; it shall hold its 
 own followers in suspicion ; it shall deprive free cities of 
 their rank ; it shall take away life itself from many ; it 
 shall make men torment each other with many kinds of 
 subterfuge, deceits and treacheries. 
 
 O vile monster! How much better were :t for men 
 that thou shouldst go back to hell! For this the vast 
 forests shall be stripped of their trees ; for this an infinite 
 
 number of creatures shall lose their lives. 
 (C. A. 370 r. 4.) 
 
 OF THE DOWRIES OF MAIDENS 
 
 And whereas at first young maidens could not be 
 protected from the lust and violence of men, either by 
 the watchfulness of parents or by the strength of walls, 
 there will come a time when it will be necessary for the 
 fathers and relatives of these maidens to pay a great 
 price to whoever is willing to marry them, even although 
 they may be rich and noble and exceedingly beautiful. 
 Herein it seems certain that nature desires to exterminate 
 the human race, as a thing useless to the world and the 
 destroyer of all created things. 
 
PROPHECIES 289 
 
 OF THE CRUELTY OF MAN 
 
 Creatures shall be seen upon the earth who will always 
 be fighting one with another with very great losses and 
 frequent deaths on either side. These shall set no bounds 
 to their malice ; by their fierce limbs a great number of 
 the trees in the immense forests of the world shall be 
 laid level with the ground ; and when they have crammed 
 themselves with food it shall gratify their desire to deal 
 - out death, affliction, labours, terrors, and banishment to 
 every living thing. And by reason of their boundless 
 pride they shall wish to rise towards heaven, but the 
 excessive weight of their limbs shall hold them down. 
 There shall be nothing remaining on the earth or under 
 the earth or in the waters that shall not be pursued and 
 molested or destroyed, and that which is in one country 
 taken away to another ; and their own bodies shall be 
 made the tomb and the means of transit of all the living 
 bodies which they have slain. O Earth! what delays thee 
 to open and hurl them headlong into the deep fissures of 
 thy huge abysses and caverns, and no longer to display 
 
 in the sight of heaven so savage and ruthless a monster ? 
 (Ce A. 3709. a.) 
 
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